“one for the big wass” by Tohm Bakelas

every morning for breakfast,
jeff takes 8 chicken nuggets
out of the freezer,
places them in the toaster oven
turns the dial to 425°
and bakes them for ten minutes
 
jeff eats 5 off a paper plate
and places the remaining 3
on a piece of wheat bread
 
jeff doesn’t believe in a better world,
and like everybody else
he’s just trying to get by

Tohm Bakelas is a social worker in a psychiatric hospital. He was born in New Jersey, resides there, and will die there. His poems have appeared in numerous journals, zines, and online publications. He has published 12 chapbooks. He runs Between Shadows Press.  

Bad Attitude by Daniel S. Irwin

I was told that I
Have a bad attitude.
That’s news to me.
It suits me just fine.
So go fuck yourself.
That pretty much
Was the end of the
Conversation.  God
Never spoke to me
Again.  Now, Satan,
On the other hand,
Usually runs his
Mouth non-stop.
I threatened to
Kick his Devil ass,
But he seemed to
Like the idea too
Much for that to
Be an annoyance.
I look forward to
Dealing with him in
The Great Beyond.
I’ll bring my attitude.

Daniel S. Irwin, a native of Sparta, Illinois.  Retired military.  Dudeist priest.  Dedicated heathen. Work published in over one hundred magazines and journals world wide.  Founder of The Hardened Sailors’ School of Vulgar Vernacular (now disbanded). Latest work can be found at/in Horror, Sleaze, Trash Magazine, Beatnik Cowboy, Cajun Mutt, The Rye Whiskey Review.  

Baking your Own Head by Danny D. Ford

 

Danny D. Ford’s poetry, illustration and photography have appeared in numerous online & print titles including ‘Three Poets 5’ – Hickathrift Press  ‘Raffle’ & ‘Wellbeing’ - Poems For All, ‘Sunshine Junkie’, ‘Flexeril Haikus’ & ‘Slides for Alberto’ - Between Shadows Press, 'Perforated by Sirens' - Analog Submission Press. The Unfolding Head can be found in Bergamo, Italy,

www.theunfoldinghead.com

@theunfoldinghead

Credit by Wayne F. Burke

I go to the store counter to pay
for my sandwich
and discover that
I do not have my wallet.
"That's alright," the counter-guy says, "pay
me the next time."
I thank him and leave, feeling
a little ashamed because
I have never liked the guy--
have disparaged him in my head
repeatedly--
it is the first time
anyone in this town
has extended credit to
me...
Not so bad a burgh, this town
afterall
I tell myself, tootling down the
sun-lit sidewalk. Not so ugly a dump
suddenly; not as hostile seeming...
"Do not go back there," a voice
in my head says.
"Fuck 'em."

Wayne F. Burke's poetry has been widely published online and in print (including in the DOPE FIEND DAILY). He is the author of 8 published full-length poetry collections, most recently BLACK SUMMER, Spartan Press, 2021. He lives in Croutonville,Vermont.

dear scott by Scott Ferry

i am writing this to you knowing that the parts

of you hooked to the worry-talons may be sheared

off by the medicine you are going to start

i hope it does not tear too much of the skin

around the amygdala up through the hypothalamus

reaching up through a fountain of epinephrine

they say there could be a removal of the cock

and balls and the higher joys with the extrication

of the many-mouthed demons

we could see the suffering artist replaced by a

functioning slab of sores healing in a gel

of serotonin and dental office flute music

i hope we will still be in touch through the curtain

of medium grey soap i hope when you laugh

you will feel it in the spirals of each mitochondria

i hope when you cry you will remember how

to stop please promise me if it takes too much

from you please spill the pills in the whale’s

maw please come back into the shiny pain

with new wounds please remember all of us

speaking at once like a substitute classroom

please say a prayer for us each time you swallow

the poison please walk out of this

bombshelter and never come back

Scott Ferry helps our Veterans heal as a RN in the Seattle area. In former lives he taught high school, managed aquatic centers, and practiced acupuncture. He has four books of poetry: The only thing that makes sense is to grow (Moon Tide, 2019), Mr. Rogers kills fruit flies (Main St. Rag, 2020), These Hands of Myrrh (Kelsay Books, 2021), and Sea of Marrow (Ethel Press, 2021). He has two books upcoming in 2022: fishmirror from Alien Buddha Press and Skinless in the Cereal Aisle from Impspired.

 

buzz buzz buzz denied by Giovanni Mangiante

I left my wine glass unattended

for a few minutes,

and next thing I notice

is two wine-covered flies

fucking sideways 

next to it.

I could have used that moment

to reflect upon the irony of nature

and the role alcohol plays

amongst us living organisms,

instead,

I swatted the living shit out those two

because if I'm not the one fucking

in this room

then nothing else is either.

Giovanni Mangiante is a poet from Lima, Peru. He has work published in Newington Blue Press, Rusty Truck, The Daily Drunk, Anti-Heroin Chic, Heroin Love Songs, Rat's Ass Review, Three Rooms Press, and more. In writing, he found a way to cope with BPD.

dendritic by Tanya Rakh

Tanya Rakh was born on the outskirts of time and space in a cardboard box. After extensive planet-hopping, she currently makes her home near Houston, Texas where she writes poetry, surrealist prose, and cross-genre amalgamations. Her writing has appeared in numerous journals including The Gasconade Review, Redshift 4, Literary Orphans, Fearless, Yes, Poetry, and The Rye Whiskey Review. Tanya is the author of two books: Hydrogen Sofi and Wildflower Hell, new editions of both available from Posthuman Poetry & Prose.

 

Transplant by Lauren Scharhag

With your new abundance
of time, you watch cooking videos.
You start with bread.
Before I know it, you 
are turning out beautiful loaves.
In three years, we find
there’s nothing you can’t do, no dish
you can’t master: baguettes,
pillowy croissants, arepas,
chocolate babka, Three Kings bread,
homemade pizzas and pasta, sushi, 
dumplings, and biscuits the way
your grandma made them,
roasted pork belly and braised short ribs.
For Valentine’s Day, you surprise me
with a filet and lobster tail.
For every holiday, we happily gift you
kitchen gadgets, welcoming you back
to a world of appetite. Every artist knows
that sometimes, you have to die
in order to create, and you have died
several times over. But now, my love, 
you live, and not just on bread alone. 

You live.

Lauren Scharhag is the author of fourteen books, including Requiem for a Robot Dog (Cajun Mutt Press) and Languages, First and Last (Cyberwit Press). Her work has appeared in over 150 literary venues around the world. Recent honors include the Seamus Burns Creative Writing Prize, three Best of the Net nominations, and acceptance into the 2021 Antarctic Poetry Exhibition. She lives in Kansas City, MO. To learn more about her work, visit: www.laurenscharhag.blogspot.com