Issue III: Buds

His office was gorgeous. Literal books have been written about its architecture, but what fascinated me was the fact that it was his. His personal touches were everywhere. We talked about policy for about ten minutes before he sat down in his chair. THE chair. Instinctively, I moved toward him. I think my intention was to sit on his lap. To my dismay, he held up his hand. “I really don’t want to do bad things with my life. I have the power to, of course. But I also have t

The woman leading him into his interview had a smile like a picket fence in a nice suburb. Clark smiled back at her, conscious of his own coffee-stained teeth. He knew exactly what his smile looked like because he’d been practicing it in the mirror that morning while retying his tie for the fifth time. When he had asked Allison how he looked, she said, “Fine,” not seeming to understand how high the stakes were. This was the first interview he had gotten after more than fifty

Brent laid his machete onto the ground. He brushed South-Texas coastal grit from his forehead, and took stock of his senses. The temperature was in the upper nineties, he was covered in sweat, and his triceps were locked in a painful cramp. As he relaxed, wind roared in his ears and sent damp pendants of his hair flapping. It felt wonderful. His muscles slowly unclenched. The ache didn’t go away, it just retreated deep inside his joints. Brent could feel his clothes sticking

Most of you, my online friends, have heard about the recent fine which has been unfairly levied against my program. Do any of you really know the backstory though? I mean really know it? You can’t trust what you read on the message boards. You just can’t. I had a guy tell me the only difference between a heroin addict and a wrestling coach is the wrestling coach has no clue when and where they’ll get their next high. He told me this while a McNab Collie gnawed on an old bask

Marc twisted the tap, and thick sludge came glopping from the spigot. He turned it off, wrinkling his nose at the rancid smell. As the sludge drained away, the occasional thick bubble burst from the puddle. The leasing company had promised to fix the filters three days ago, but it was an expensive repair. As long as no one died, they could keep pushing the maintenance further and further down the line. Marc sighed and trudged into the bathroom. The shower was starting to col

The morning the aliens seized Earth, I was in my manager’s office asking him why, for the fourth time, I’d been passed over for a supervisory position. “Now, Meg,” said Stan Howell, leaning back in his padded chair, “we’ve been over this all before, haven’t we?” Stan was a jovial middle-aged man with a braying laugh. He was popular with his staff, especially his inner circle, who gathered around him at the coffee station every morning to rehash the latest episode of Game of

Henry hates reading. Unfortunately for him, it is all everyone talks about in this pathetic town. In his twelve years of living, he has yet to find someone besides his best friend Chester who is not addicted to their book the morning after a full moon. Every full moon, the town gets a special visit from the Book Fairy. When the moon is at its peak, she flies to every person in the town, young or old, and puts a very special book under their pillow. It can be new, old, big, sm

An innocent game for children: hunt for eggs and Easter candy. I walk the street looking for a miracle. I find a blue mirage, a large unhatched wonder that makes my fits foolish, conquers doubt, exceeds reason with curiosity, makes the screen of the mind dance with enterprise, and corrects the trajectory of the environment toward goodwill. You could say the animal man dances this way believing, trying, finding things at work or play and all this is just the delicate programmi

You were a sly symbol of the suave emotions, tempting me to metaphors I never liked, until the hummingbird flew up and, haltingly, purloined your nectar. You two together reminded me of something outlandish, of birds in Eden and barber quartets, of reptiles embracing in nethermost time, or, as the hummingbird twitched in mid-air, the unique accosted by the bizarre. Who do I have to thank for seeing you in submission, worldly flower, so suddenly before me through the glass? by

Easter evening: 4/17/2022. It is a city without the limits of time and the laurels of accomplishment. It is the end of the day, and you’re left with nothing but the sunlight on your hair. You went away, and things changed very little. The population became botany, and all the cells wanted to become flowers. If you weren’t budding, you were not becoming. The city lifts its air and lets the stars dot the mountaintops. Reputations are mere commerce, and everything seems meant fo

We want to ask, “Why hot? Why cold?” Why a euphoria of heights? A dysphoria of depths? “Weaker meanings must give way to stronger, abstract meanings which cover more of the experience captured.” The power that pushes forward symbolic interpretation—is the human body. “The text is erotic” in the same way that “the body is the locus of desire.” The text “involves & tantalizes.” Yet its language is unstable. Any two characters, situations, objects, or actions imply opposition, a

“WHAT YOU LOVE IS YOUR FATE” –Frank Bidart, Guilty of Dust All words blasphemous are uttered on holy terms. I think I hate you. I wanted to say today but I did not want you to leave me alone. I think I hate you. Amor Fati. What you love is your fate. Instead I said, unfortunately. The door, for you, will always be open to my heart. Unfortunately. I said. You touched the red, wet muscles of my heart. It is a sensation that I could only later acknowledge as pain. Fuck the g

Ici on parle francais Here we speak English not Spanish not Chinese not Russian not Yiddish not Vietnamese not Laotian not Creole not Hindi not Tagalog not German not Korean not French not Arabic not Italian not Portuguese not Japanese not Greek not Urdu here we speak fucking English. Welcome to America. by Bob McAfee

I bought this tee-shirt yesterday Cause I kind of liked the rhyme On the front “So many women” On the back “So little time” On the front “I’m so outspoken” On the back “I’m just a mime” On the front “I love Rosemary” On the back “I just have thyme” On the front “From the ridiculous” On the back “To the sublime” On the front “I love spaghetti” On the back “I’m pasta my prime” On the front it says “Ghostbuster” The back is green with slime On the front there is a paradox On the

And now I lay me down resigned to die. It’s time, I think, to say my last good-bye. But wait - I think that I will change my mind, I’m suddenly perplexed, quite disinclined To say those final, enigmatic words. This dying stuff is really for the birds. I think that I will stop, refuse to go No farther than my backyard patio Until my fears have been resolved, allayed. I’m worried, anxious, heartsick, sore afraid. Eternity is more than just a visit. I want to know, to understand

At the end there is a house with a crowded table And chairs of all heights, housing knees That kick the underside of the wood accidentally when they bounce while they laugh. Old friend, Breathe close, even if we’ve just met And everything is shared at the onset Old friend, You’ve shown me in that mirror, your eyes All the ways I have changed Old friend, Our objects outlive us, you know You are unlucky, not permanent leather, just So simple, you eat And sleep Automatic alive,

Learn to breathe, again so you can hear your self in the back of your throat slowly Sleep and lay, still when you wake for an hour or so killing time Like all those ways you have forgotten your smile bringing heaven right here and forcing Right now like you live there in the wind of the world. Criers at breakfast they tell you to flay while you are meditating, and to greet the child As if he’s a friend younger you doesn’t know the shape you’re in and he laughs his denial Meet

All the emergency sanity Barriers arise, And all the hearts of all The people shine Like six foot candles, And we walk Around pouring this Light onto each other, And all the darkness Recedes around us, And we hold Hands all across The world And light the world, And it’s so bright That the astronauts Are temporarily disorientated Believing the Earth Is the Sun, And there’s just No barriers between Us all anymore. by JD Del Rey

I wake to messages Of apology. I note a windfall Payment in my business account. The coffee is perfect, Not bitter at all. I have lost weight, Apparently. The sun is shining, And it’s bright, But not blinding, Perfectly warm. T-shirt and shorts, The breeze is neither Cool nor hot. I feel anxious. Everyone greets me With a smile, And calls me Sir. I am asked for my opinion All day. People Make a clicking sound In the corner of their mouths, And shake their heads In disbelief w

On my mañana’s mañana I am full of tears of relief, I can finally feel it all. The bandaid has been Ripped away and everything Is so fresh and raw. On my mañana’s mañana I love the cold and stride Into it with apple cheeks, And I love the sunshine too On my skin, dumping Loving chemicals into my brain. by JD Del Rey