Tuesday, September 10, 2019

That Time Robert Priest Farted At a Reading and Everyone Knew It by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

It was after this reading at this little red school house
out in the middle of nowhere
and at the conclusion of the reading everyone went back
to this farm house property with wild cats
and as a couple of us sat around at this table
having some beers, the most horrible smell
wafted over everything.  Robert Priest had been
the headline reader and now he was lying
just feet away on the side of a dried out fountain
with his ass facing us.  I think it’s Priest, someone said.
He had raised one of his legs to spread the smell.
My god! a woman with us covered her nose.
I had my face in my shirt by this time.
And my thumb over the lip of my beer.
Priest just laid there as though nothing had happened.
Staring up at the many stars in the night sky.
He hadn’t stunk it up at the reading earlier in the day
but he sure as hell did later that night.  And everyone
knew it.  Robert Priest most of all.

About Ryan Quinn Flanagan:

Ryan Quinn Flanagan guards the Northern Wall for The Frat with his army of horny unicorns and 4/5ths of the Village People.  His private jet is a tax write-off and most of his first edition moose dulaps as well.  He is Scott's Simmons' father and wants Scott to know that he has been a very naughty boy and to get the spanking paddle out of the closet.

Here is a link to Ryan's New Book "Leaving Las Vegas Poems": 

Friday, September 6, 2019

Refract by by Mark Antony Rossi

I am not good at smiling
I never was
I’m shoehorned in this world
Of anguish and suffering
Because my face
Will not light up
Though my children
healthy and happy
My heart belongs
To the past.

About Mark Antony Rossi:

Mark Antony Rossi is a poet and playwright with recent credits in Blognostics, The Big Window Review, Drinkers Only, Entrophy, Indian Periodical, and Rye Whiskey Review. His most recent plays Vital Spark and Eye of the Needle were world premiered in New York and Liverpool.

Sunday, September 1, 2019

Little Fat Boy by Dan Provost

We all have cause
to bleed a little
when the night is lonely and
the call of death is all
Dampen the sheets with invalid
dreams, widen the escape
hatches around the closet…
Blood forming around the
toy model of R2D2 that was
glued together in third grade.
You were a virgin
toadstool then.
A face looking to be
punched by anyone in a bad mood on
the playground.

Sure, those memories will lead to
an early grave…
No one wants to be kicked around.
But you are hemorrhaging now…
Mom and dad have been buried a long time.
“Shut up and take it,” You little pussy boy...
“I’m sure they will say nice things at
your funeral.”

About Dan Provost: 

Dan Provost's poetry has been published throughout the small press for many years.  He is the author of nine books and lives in Berlin, New Hampshire with his wife, Laura--and their Bichon Frisce...Bella.

Friday, August 30, 2019

OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVES by Andrew Darlington

strangers love in lives
we can’t even imagine,
we see them holding hands
in the transport interchange,
gazing deep into lover’s souls
across the Starbucks alcove table,
we watch them live
their perfect lives,
of salty kisses and sandy toes,
we ache to be a part of
those other lovers we see
in their more intense trysts,
strangers lives and stranger loves
I see her wake him with a
good morning blowjob
the taste of her pussy
still sweet on his mouth,
then they taste each other
in the tangled tongues
of sleepy blurred kisses,
yet they’re the same strangers
who glance across at us
and fantasise our love-life

About Andrew Darlington: 

Check out my website ‘EIGHT MILES HIGHER’ – ‘The Blogspot for People Who Don’t Like Blogspots’ – latest postings include… ‘Tales Of Wonder’ the full detailed story of Britain’s First-Ever SF magazine, ‘The Walking Dead: The First Nine Seasons’, ‘Mick Farren: Sex And Drugs, SF And Rock ‘n’ Roll (‘Mona’ and Phaid The Gambler)’, Sly Stone Meets Doris Day, plus music interviews The Secret Life Of Fiat Lux, Floy Joy… From Sheffield, Hula: Old World, New Machines, More Electric Shadows... and more… All with archive photos, and more… monthly updates at andrewdarlington.blogspot.com

Thursday, August 29, 2019

Sinner by Donna Dallas

I can’t touch God
through thin air
I try to
pry open
a cloud
look for wings
or a harp……..I lie in bed
in search of
an angel
flapping music
I whisper my
confessions tonight……..
but only the devil listens

About Donna Dallas:

I studied Creative Writing and Philosophy at NYU’s Gallatin School and was lucky enough to study under William Packard, founder and editor of the New York Quarterly.  I am recently found or forthcoming in 34th Parallel, Sick Lit Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Beautiful Losers, Chiron Review, Red Fez and Bewildering Stories among many other publications.

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Hanukkah in Albany, New York 2003 by James Steck

the piano
sings at night
only deaf keys
and numb notes
like grandpa
its pedals and hammers beat
within swollen frames--

I had too many nosebleeds when I was young;
Mom almost fainted
in the bathroom of St. Pius

but I was a Jew


listening to other people sing
like the piano in the living room

I did not know I was out of tune
until someone played me;

the high B was always mute for me;

I don’t like dry martinis
empty politicking around red wine;
it reminds me
of the backside of his eyes
only occasionally.

About James Steck:

James Steck grew up in upstate New York, and now lives in Washington, DC. He teaches high school English and coaches track and field in Fairfax, Virginia. He often draws in relation to his poetry. His writing is influenced by romanticism and realism while focusing on contradictions, the body, and everyday life. You can find his work at The Rye Whiskey Review, The Ugly Writers, The Woove, and The Silhouette Literary and Arts Magazine.

Friday, August 23, 2019

From Place To Place by Damion Hamilton

I am such a nomad
I move from bar to bar
neighborhood to neighborhood
job to job
have a hard time standing in one place
interested in the new thing
always searching, always
looking, the new place seeking
you out
I can understand being young and being like this
I am now 41, and still seeking
the dancing, the wonder, the delight
of new things, crazy seeking
getting bored with things eventually
and seeking things that just happen into
new things dancing and breathing and moving
into fruition, into the dance of the moment,
song tumbling and stumbling into the front of you
going and going
and twisting and twisting, this snake of the day,
wrapping into a python
dance dance, seeking and dying
falling and stumbling into a place to be.

About Damion Hamilton:

Damion Hamilton is from St. Louis MO. His poems have appeared in Chiron Review, Poesy Magazine, Zygote In My Coffee, Red Fez, The Camel Saloon and many others. He writes poetry, stories and novels. He has written several books.

That Time Robert Priest Farted At a Reading and Everyone Knew It by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

It was after this reading at this little red school house out in the middle of nowhere and at the conclusion of the reading everyone went...