Author Archives: jc-abboud

By Daniel W. Rasmus Place du 18 Juin 1940 Even rap here explosively neon but not rapidly becoming indigenous. The deep roar of motorcycles going too fast on one-way streets temporarily stalls the all night rapid conversation designed expressly for … Continue reading →

By Susan Gillan  Lost in the shopping mall I stand at the color-coded map and discover Bellevue Square is not square at all. Liars. It’s a layer-cake rectangle. You Are Here, it says but how do They know And will … Continue reading →

By Mike Beasley  Sprigs lush with dark green leaves and red berries, Suspended above her; The twisted leaves, concavities kissing up To a thousand pain-points of ecstasy, Dare to be touched, fondled, grasped firmly In the anguish of palms punctured … Continue reading →

By Marissa Taylor  I’d like to see your biceps deflated I’d like to see you three inches shorter I’d like to see you run ragged I’d like to see you less then you are because then maybe, you could be … Continue reading →

By Callie Turner My red shoes are going out tonight With my yellow silk dress They will dance on and on Till midnight strikes My pearl earrings are going out tonight With my pearl necklace They will be beautiful White … Continue reading →

By Jeffery Perry  I am the beginning I am the end I am the hope for the future I am the search for the cure I am part of something wonderful I am not alone I am loved by everyone … Continue reading →

By Ashley Claytor I am lying still while the water sings on my skin. The first drop is like the first touch of the drum. A rapid pulse that slowly becomes less foreign to my reflexes. The drumming becomes more … Continue reading →

By Katie Kapugi She remembers the feel of her tiny son’s mouth sucking and tugging at her cracked flesh. While he nursed he scratched with tiny nails. Squeezing her breasts her husband whispers, how nice it is finally to be … Continue reading →

By Katie Kapugi  Whiskey in my glass– tiny icebergs click to the deep beat of some forgotten song that lures the lusty to grind their hips, to make come-hither eyes, and writhe with shock wave skin- every molecule pressured into … Continue reading →

By Katie Kapugi  Ankles fettered to twisted sheets, your inclination, the angle of your body in golden light, is slanted–
crossed by the crooked shadow of bent blinds,
A positive declination on a lumpy hotel mattress. You seem a creature distant, unscathed … Continue reading →