April 27, 2011 § Leave a comment

By: Bendi Barrett

What would Tom Ford do

or what’s he up to? Does he sleep
on three thousand thread count sheets

and dream of his teeth falling out
like I do? Wake up in the night clutching,

like I do, a tendril of terror so hot
he can’t let it go

like a live wire forcing the fist shut.

Fortunes we’d like to see

April 26, 2011 § Leave a comment

Fortunes we’d like to see

April 20, 2011 § Leave a comment

Speak friend to enter


April 18, 2011 § Leave a comment

By Jeff Barnes

I cleared a circle from the rows of corn so we could lie
and watch the crows overhead cut between power lines,
across the see-through clouds, blue sky and building moon.

How can something be so ugly and beautiful all at the same time,
you asked of the lines. The birds disappeared. By the time the moon
replaced the clouds’ white with its translation, I’d pulled enough

wood from the lot—our fire was catching—taking my oxygen
to grow its own shoots of light and warmth. Pointing, you asked
if you’d spotted a planet or a star, said you had to be sure,

that you didn’t want to jinx your wish. Not knowing, I wished for you:
I wish for _______ to be happy. That was the best I could do. Now, this August,
as the new rows flex with September wind, my wish has finally come true.

Fortunes we’d like to see

April 17, 2011 § Leave a comment

Fortunes wed like to see

Noble Gases and Bayonets

April 16, 2011 § Leave a comment

Noble Gases and Bayonets
By Joe McCarthy

Dan Nye was with us when the
Bay Parkway was
We blew our noses because
The radio was a static hysteria.
Smells like teen spirit sounded like
Bayonets piercing our guts,
So we drove back to
Massapequa entertaining the speakers
With our voices.
No, we probably bored them with memories
I prefer the noble gases.
Prefiero los gases nobles.

We copped some Heebs at a 711
Where the lucid storefront of
Eternity was all neon lights, glass and
Glinting green graffiti.
Laborious snoring could be heard from products behind
Windows that were merely
Mirrors reflecting the
Yearnings of a culture.

We followed lethargic yellow
Lines of paint and conspiring
Road signs back to our Aunt’s house.
Here we would
Speculate on the Hopi Indian
Understanding of time,
In a yard where frayed fences apologized
For their constricting nature. They told us that
Nature was never meant to be
Divided up and
Paper recycling plants are an
Extension of death.

Budweiser sparked thought like the
French Revolution.
Radical ideas reigned supreme,
And fixed philosophies were
We sat in lawn chairs that
Pinched our hips.
The exotic smell of fresh pineapple
Flirted with our nostrils and the
Crisp, salty wind from the sound
Cooled our bare feet as we cast
Scattered glances at a meteor
Shower that seemed to be
Stuck in traffic somewhere along
The Milky Way.

My brother clutched at his
Rosary beads as Dan, in his
Black, skin-tight, barely-below
The knee jeans, said Christianity
Inhibits freedom.

I sipped on a beer that tasted of tropical fruit,
And reached my hand up to direct traffic
For meteors that were too impatient to follow
The constellation’s construction signs.

Fortunes we’d like to see

April 14, 2011 § Leave a comment

Fortunes wed like to see


April 14, 2011 § Leave a comment

By Daniel Alfred Nye

Heart is the hare of his art.
His empty Art.
Empty heart.
Veins pulsing. Don’t picture a penis.

Blood runs through the river that runs through a movie star
ring Brad Pitt.
Cigarettes Make you/
him look sexier, you know. It works.
Unlike Your heart.

Hardened like Kakuna.
But I have 2! They’ll never die and I
will become champion. Of nothing
when there’s no one to compete with.
Everyone is too busy smoking.


April 14, 2011 § Leave a comment

By Daniel Alfred Nye

It’s already April
And all the trees are still dead
It’s already April
No one is in love
Because the blossoms have not sprung
From Spring’s bosom
These people
Go on pretending that one day
They will meet their match
Their complement
Yet they always settle for less
I’ve never fallen in love
In the Spring-time
And I never will
Because it’s only April
And the song-birds don’t sing
For you, for me, for them
So we can watch the dead trees
In silence

Fortunes we’d like to see

April 14, 2011 § Leave a comment

Fortunes we'd like to see

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