John Dorsey

Poem for the Original Pink Lady

somewhere you are frozen in time forever
thirty years old & resting your head
above a cincinnati pizza shop
even then you seem tired
or maybe bored
cutting your wrists on the couch
with a dull disposable razor blade
as if you were knitting a sweater for nick cave
out of empty mountain dew bottles & cigarette butts
proclaiming your love in an angry song
on the docks of billy childish’s broken heart

you dance like a little girl
hiding inside
a burning tire.

John Dorsey lived for several years in Toledo, Ohio. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Teaching the Dead to Sing: The Outlaw's Prayer (Rose of Sharon Press, 2006), Sodomy is a City in New Jersey (American Mettle Books, 2010), Tombstone Factory, (Epic Rites Press, 2013), Appalachian Frankenstein (GTK Press, 2015) Being the Fire (Tangerine Press, 2016) and Shoot the Messenger (Red Flag Poetry, 2017),Your Daughter's Country (Blue Horse Press, 2019), Which Way to the River: Selected Poems 2016-2020 (OAC Books, 2020), Afterlife Karaoke (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2021) and Sundown at the Redneck Carnival, (Spartan Press, 2022).. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and the Stanley Hanks Memorial Poetry Prize. He was the winner of the 2019 Terri Award given out at the Poetry Rendezvous. He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com.

DS Maolalai

America – what

a flight of strong beers
on this patio brewpub in Boston
a stroll from the hostel
where we drank until late-
night last night. America –

what unbelievable novelty!
and drinking again now
this morning to early afternoon!
there's a dog and some girls
and some guys around 40,
all decked out with beer-
guts like tires and sunglasses.
the air smells of sawdust
and no decoration;

that sought after bare-
walled industrial style. I love it;
this August, this sun
like a new polished
quarter. and that
is a novelty also –

being able to say things
like that. we have some
time to spend – we order
for some sandwiches,
eat them quite slowly. the bus
leaves for Salem at 3.
we are going; we intend
to see all America –
needing to see nothing else.

DS Maolalai has been described by one editor as "a cosmopolitan poet" and another as "prolific, bordering on incontinent". His work has nominated eleven times for Best of the Net, eight for the Pushcart Prize and once for the Forward Prize, and has been released in three collections; "Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden" (Encircle Press, 2016), "Sad Havoc Among the Birds" (Turas Press, 2019) and “Noble Rot” (Turas Press, 2022)

Anne Champion

Stigmata

I never predicted my hair would be in the fist
of a man who collected pieces of me as souvenirs,
had a shrine with my underwear, my childhood videos;

never thought I’d live in a sick man’s fantasy—
so real that he felt he had to kill it; never
imagined a stalker could be handsome,

could flinch guiltily when I argued
that parents did astonishing work fucking us up;
never envisioned a stranger could kidnap

an inner child so he becomes Father,
Son, and Holy Ghost; never prophesied
my wrists up, post-resurrection, bleeding

my shames, watching strangers recoil
as if before a witch.


Corpse Bride

In some places, girls are made to marry their rapists.
This used to strike me as barbaric, until
a man broke into my apartment and raped me.

I imagine our marriage bed the same way
a rash of suicidal thoughts migrate across my flesh
like a flock of crows. What difference would it make?

My bed is my coffin now; a corpse bride.
If another man were to ever reach for me,
my rapist will be there as maggots in my heart.

If I ever sleep next to a man again, my rapist
will be there as my trust clenched into a fist,
wondering if he’ll kill me in my sleep.

I’ve finally learned the secret to make a man happy:
die for his desire, keep breathing, and die again.

Anne Champion is the author of She Saints & Holy Profanities (Quarterly West, 2019), The Good Girl is Always a Ghost (Black Lawrence Press, 2018), Book of Levitations (Trembling Pillow Press, 2019), Reluctant Mistress (Gold Wake Press, 2013), and The Dark Length Home (Noctuary Press, 2017). Her work appears in Verse Daily, diode, Tupelo Quarterly, Prairie Schooner, Crab Orchard Review, Salamander, New South, Redivider, PANK Magazine, and elsewhere.  She was a 2009 Academy of American Poets Prize recipient, a 2016 Best of the Net winner, and a Barbara Deming Memorial Grant recipient.  

Robert Beveridge

Eight of Swords (reversed)

You know things have gotten bad when the local
prophets have taken off their sandwich boards,
stepped down from their soapboxes, and removed
themselves to your armpits. Hasn’t stopped them
from their attempts to spread the good word, though,
no sir. In the diner when you stop to avail yourself
of the ham and egg special, they proclaim the horrors
of parallel parking; when you pause on the path
in the middle of your jog, out they come to harangue
the passersby about the dangers of burglars who break
into homes, steal nothing, but leave Legos in your
hallways for you to tread on as you head to the bathroom
at three in the morning. You’ve consulted the authorities,
but of course, they say there’s nothing they can do.
None of this, you’ve found, is a huge deal until they
speechify in your ear. The laundry can wait one more day.
There’s just one more cookie, you can’t leave a whole box
with just one cookie in it. You have a spare room,
and the demons do need a place to stay, now don’t they?
You’ve always had compassion for the homeless.

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry on unceded Mingo land (Akron, OH). Recent/upcoming appearances in Raven Cage, Revolver, and Impspired, among others.

Jim Dunn

The Wanting Mare

Wanting more
The wanting mare
brings her furious desire
to the water’s edge
Waiting here
She dips herself in
Many moons of dusk
A sad star frozen
In the icy night
Sheds tears

One frozen moment
Stopped in its tracks
From the crescent
Of the other pink moon
Cassandra sings
Prophecies of
A watery wedding
Of one mermaid
To the endless sea
She twists like the tide
And rolls her soul
Out upon the rocks
In prayer

An offering to the
Crash of the collapsing surf
Rumbling roaring in a
Ballad of blue waves
She sings
Amongst the mists
Of the day
Soft sibilant and sweet
Entwined like a bird to its
Flight, a minstrel to his song.

Jim Dunn is the author of This Silence is a Junkyard(Spuyten Duyvil, 2022) Soft Launch (Bootstrap Press/Pressed Wafer, 2008), Convenient Hole (Pressed Wafer, 2004), and Insects In Sex (Fallen Angel Press, 1995).  His work has appeared in Castle Grayskull, Blazing Stadium, Can We Have Our Ball Back?, Bright Pink Mosquito, The Process, eoagh, Gerry Mulligan, Cafe Review, Meanie, and the anthology tribute to John Wieners, The Blind See Only In This World. He edited the John Wieners Journal, A New Book From Rome with Derek Fenner and Ryan Gallagher of Bootstrap Press.