Ryan Quinn Flanagan /Doing Headstands in the Sty of the Beholder/

Doing Headstands in the Sty of the Beholder

Naysay,
you sound like a horse
on its way to the glue factory,
no harm in such things
but I feel as though I should warn you
it does not end well
like jumping into the lion enclosure
at the zoo
painted up like a baby
zebra…

I understand the modern grant system as it is.
No one puts their coins into the payphone slot
when there is a peep show to be had.

I once wrote an obscenely long letter to a very dead George Orwell
asking him why he put the pigs in charge
of things.

Turning on the television
I understand.

 


 

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his other half and mounds of snow.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Word Riot, In Between Hangovers, Red Fez, and The Oklahoma Review.

Marissa Glover /ON MY THERAPIST’S COUCH/

ON MY THERAPIST’S COUCH

Flick:

………………….Whip.

Prick:

………………….Bruise.

Blue:

………………….Bottle.

Balls:

………………….Burst.

Bat:

………………….Sleep.

Snake:

………………….Twitch.

Daisy:

………………….Dirt.

Pluck:

………………….Wilt.

Pitch:

………………….Die.

Sex:

………………….Yes.

 

 


 

Marissa teaches and writes in Florida, but she isn’t to blame for election results. Her work has appeared in Rat’s Ass Review and Sandhill Review and on her parents’ refrigerator.

Richard Fox /CANCER SUCKS! (yeah—I know that’s “trite, overused”. Bite me.)/

CANCER SUCKS! (yeah—I know that’s “trite, overused”. Bite me.)

Cancer: To you,
………..miracle debunks statistical improbability.

Cancer: You kill me, you kill you.
………..Dude, are you suicidal?
………..A microcellular terrorist?

Cancer: You stamped an expiration date on my ass.
………..Why can’t I read it in the mirror?

Cancer: You turn me into a chatty-Cathy
………..when I have blood drawn or an EKG or a growth lanced.
Clinicians have long days with doomed patients.
………..I figure it’s my job to provide laughter,
pain not the priority rather the punch line.
………..I want the applause of razors rending my skin.

Cancer: I shuffle in place, drool, adjust a face mask,
………..rip off a dried bandage,
………..fail to ace a flip to the corner trash can.

Cancer: I honor my  quest.

Cancer: If I know I’m dying in days,
………..should I order that cane from Amazon?
Cancer: You flapping freeloader,
………..will you slay me from throat, lung, brain, or
………..a random organ to be named later?

Cancer: Thanks for getting me cute lil’ square steroids.
………..Green is my favorite color.
………..Three sleepless nights can be a drag but
………..three manic runs of infomercials is a hoot.

Cancer: That expiration date?
…………………….I appreciate knowing,
………..being able to say what I want to say to the people I love,
………..hear their words for me.
………..Dying without warning would be crude, an
…………………….untold
…………………….undone
…………………….mess splattered onto survivors.

Cancer: We live together—
…………………….as beloveds? besiegers?
………..You take food without asking,
…………………….never clean up after your parties,
…………………….leave diarrhea on the toilet seat.
………..I had a flatmate like you in college.
…………………….Him I got rid of with a month’s rent check.

Cancer: I mean…
………..what the fuck?

Cancer: Are we traveling together?
………..Is dying younger an early admission?
…………………….A kinder world,
……………………………….family,
……………………………….friends,
………………………………………….my dogs?

Cancer: Are you an angel in disguise?
………..Shredded nylon wings,
………..makeup caked—stray
…………………….vomit-piss-blood-shit?

Cancer: A topaz blade sparkles
…………………….between azure teeth.
You balance a blinding beam in one hand,
…………………….gesture with the other.


Richard H. Fox was born and bred in Worcester MA. He is the author of two poetry collections: Time Bomb (2013) and wandering in puzzle boxes (2015). When not writing about rock ’n roll or youthful transgressions, Richard’s poems focus on cancer from the patient’s point of view drawing on hope, humor, and unforeseen gifts. He seconds Stanley Kunitz’ motion that people in Worcester are “provoked to poetry.” smallpoetatlarge.com

Michael Loveday /The Small Print/

The Small Print

(Found poem)

Very slow heart rhythm (heart block), cold hands and feet, worsening of Raynaud’s disease (where your fingers turn white) and intermittent claudication (leg cramps which develop on walking), changes in the fat content of the blood, high or low blood glucose, blood disorders (with a tendency to bleed or bruise easily or sore throat and mouth ulcers), tiredness, dizzy spells, depression, anxiety, nervousness, confusion, mental disturbance, hallucinations, sleep problems, “pins and needles”, numbness of the extremities, weakness of the muscles, muscle cramps, painful joints, headache, dry mouth, feeling sick, being sick, diarrhoea, constipation, stomach cramps, fever, itching, scaly rash, worsening of psoriasis, blurred vision, sore eyes or conjunctivitis, impotence, Peyronie’s disease (a condition in men affecting the penis), and (rarely) temporary thinning of the hair.


 

Michael Loveday’s debut poetry pamphlet “He Said / She Said” was published by HappenStance Press (2011). The text for this prose poem is taken from a list of side-effects in a leaflet for a medication treating high-blood pressure.

Debasis Mukhopadhyay /the nodes of the maid of the mist/

The nodes of the maid of the mist

 
writings
that unveil her nodes
disappeared before too
sailing upon the broken knots of the waves
while the sky caught in her omphalos murmured Soledad
 
will any finch
come out again of
that murky mathematics
now eviscerating
life & lyricism
laid bare awaiting you
o sky
to come & encircle
the routine foreheads tending to
long needles
aching needles
sighing rhubarb
like lilies in her gushing sundown
 
my violin
that slayed many words
aligned afar in a sobbing worry of death
is just a rustling
inside her roots
wanting out
 
the blood you leave behind
in me
is now molting
like the black poppy skin of smoke
of the dead children of war

Debasis Mukhopadhyay lives & writes in Montreal, Canada.  His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Curly Mind, Posit, Yellow Chair Review, I am not a silent poet, New Verse News, Mannequin Haus,Thirteen Myna Birds, Of/With, Scarlet Leaf Review, With Painted Words, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. His work has been nominated for the Best of the Net. Debasis’  chapbook, kyrie eleison or all robins taken out of context, is forthcoming in 2017 from Finishing Line Press.

Mark Young /3 poems/

the Internet of Thangs

By making slight vari-
ations, the measured

properties of Galileo’s
use of isotope analysis

to attack legal barriers
such as patents & copy-

rights can also be used
to undermine an over-

active thyroid that may
cause memory problems.

 


 

hot dip galvanized steel

I’ve used vermillion in
enameled Chinese
lacquerware. Dramatic

chords accompany
naturalistic tone-
painting. The public

owns these works. But
this last individual
might not be a painter.

 


 

Transform your digital video into an antique film

Contrary to a rumor pub-
lished in an online rag, I am
not a communist, nor was I
killed by CIA operatives.
Am a dedicated Phantom, a
key component in the pro-

duction of viscous rayon,
come in a silver-foil stamped
box, perfect for gift-giving.
Les impulsions en coincidence
ainsi obtenues sont de deux
sortes
: synchrotron radiation

based X-ray imaging, & a
great vintage collection, per-
fect with soft colors. Even Am-
way have their own memorial
walls listing employees who
have died in the line of duty.