Author / Jose Soutullo Fernandez
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The Mug – Katherine Haley
The mug is everywhere. It comes in an endless amount of shapes and sizes, colors and patterns. You can own one, twenty, one hundred, and so on. The mug can contain coffee, or tea, or hot chocolate, or alcohol depending on your poison. The mug exists inside and outside of the home. It can be…
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Mary Jane Cobbler – Jaden Rose
Blood-red shots in glasses lined the wooden bar top. Outside dust swirled faintly, like ocean waves when they meet the sand, dying down and rising up again. Inside was mostly dust-free, except for cracks in the floorboards and little rims along the window sills. The glasses were always dust-free though. Al made sure of that.…
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The Stranger and the Twenty dollar Bill – Johanna Kopp
The world was black outside my windows, and my body ached for more sleep, but I willed my arms to push my body away from the warm, soft bed, and my legs to carry me to the kitchen. Looking the part was every bit as important as the rest, so while I swallowed large gulps…
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Prone to Exaggeration – Gregg Murray
Exaggeration is a funny word. It’s got five syllables and all sorts of letters. Its spelling is flat-out excessive. Perhaps that’s the point of the extra g, to indicate excess. In that sense you could say it’s performative; it exaggerates itself. It takes water that’s merely room temperature and either scalds it or freezes it.…
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Collages – Leah Dockrill
Her collage herein reflects the main theme of her work in this medium – contemporary women and concerns that some of us share, such as social mores that rule and regulate women. I am what I am Blessed of America The woman wonders what it is to be alone Leah Dockrill is a visual artist…
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Asemic Documents – Federico Federici
Score for the woods Aftershocks Behind lines Federico Federici is a physicist, a writer and a media artist across the fields of soundscape, visual arts and installation. He lives and works between Berlin and the Ligurian Apennines. His works have appeared in several print and online publications, including «3:AM Magazine», «Otoliths», «Raum», «Sand», «Trafika Europe»,…
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Illuminated – Jury S. Judge
Jury S. Judge is an internationally published artist, writer, poet, and political cartoonist. Her ‘Astronomy Comedy’ cartoons are also published in Lowell Observatory’s quarterly publication, ‘The Lowell Observer.’ She has been interviewed on the television news program, ‘NAZ Today’ for her work as a political cartoonist. Her artwork has been widely featured in literary magazines…
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Fabri Fibra Oil on Concrete – Mario Loprete
Mario Loprete lives in a world that he shapes at his liking, throughout a virtual pictorial and sculptural movement, transferring his experiences, photographing reality throughout his filters, refined from years research and experimentation. His next exhibitions are the following:– Manni Art Gallery, Venezia, Italy– Hilversum Biblioteke, Hilversum, Netherlands– Zylinderhaus Museum of Bernkastell-Kues, Germany
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The Church Closed on a Sunday – Aremu Adams
The young girl moves up on stilettoes,The church denies her entry on Sunday. It’s 8am, the church is closed. Sentry-Man says rapture is exclusive in nature. The young girl moves up the stairs & sits.Her sins are as heavy as her countenance. She has committed Gomorrah, a contagion.My poem & the birds doubt she would…
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on scene – Tohm Bakelas
it was Sunday May 6thwe met up at the cemeterywhere my grandparents resideand buried my mom well, a portion of what remained of herit had been five months and two dayssince she died afterwards we stood aroundnot saying muchamazed we even found the gravestone i learned i was the only one whostill visited the cemeteryit…
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An Open Letter to My Brain´s Remains – Bekah Black
Darling, I love you. I don’t knowWhat I did but I’m sorry. Take me backGive me what I want. What I need.Let me slip my hands beneath the skullAnd cup you in my palms, breathe a kissOn your tender membrane, coax you to a place of pity.Or, if you’d prefer, I could crush you like…
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Our last moments together – T. Ben Bryant
our last momemts together t u csparrows t h e s …
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The Allotment Guy – Gareth Culshaw
He grows his leeks upside downas he says the world is inside out. A row of carrots shoulder the soil,The holes in his jeans are from the knuckles of bone that have becomecrooked with every shovel lift or wheelbarrow rumble. The weathersits in his eyebrows, and time creases his skin. But he doesn’t care.He grows…
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Conjuring my Last Lover – RC deWinter
when i imagine youyou’re a chimeraassembled fromassorted partsthat somehowneatly fit togetherin a patchwork ofsurprising harmony your hearti’ve stolen froma bold gold lionlawless untamedking of beastssomehow it beatsthis royal heartin steady rhythmmatching mine your armssinuous and strongi have abductedfrom a bearboth brave and cleverbut they endnot in those vicious clawscapable of rendingtender fleshbut in strong handscapable…
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Take Two – Prairie Dyck
How to take the stains out of blood‘Gently used’ surpasses a euphemismUnzip the front and it all falls outIntestines and indiscretions puddle on the floorDistressed genes not in a fashionable wayBiological anarchy, synapses with hydrogen stabilityWeighed down with gold turning to leadNot enough alchemists around to contrive valueLanding softer than expected on moss fieldsGrown beneath…
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Eclipse – Karina G-Lopez
DaisyAn eclipseSalt of the earthPepper and paprikaSeasoned strands, rootsRed rollers Rolling pinsSaffron stained handsCafe y azucar y salsaNo chips on shouldersBate que bateEn su bataA batellarA majarY guallarLa GuerrierraA mastermindHer cocina is a canvasSeamstress, chef and artistFoods that sootheSew and stitchStents and stitchesShe kneadsShe kneelsShe is churchShe is CarnivalMemories and mistakesUnwritten memoirsMoonshine before midnightManzanilla in…
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to Death – Jennie Lee Harris
I told you my fear and you laughed; but I was serious and I was true—I do not want to leave my youth. Age and fragility, they scare me— I’m bigger than spiders and darker than the darkbut time is beyond me …
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enough. – Mari Jagt
i am enough,i have a bodyto fit with the mountain ranges the precipices of my spinedaunting and snow-cappedmy back grows jack-pinesand sequoia trees alikemy mouth flows outfreshwater lakes even thoughmy toes are dipped inthe salt of the ocean i am enough, my curvesmimic crashing wavesmy soft stomach a flowerbed of irises and liliesmy eyes have…
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THE WAITRESS – D.E. La Valle
On days when I don’t want to workMy body Cocoon-likeI imagine Passing through purgatorial loops Mind narrowed to a pinpoint Arms and legs swinging Heavy Each plate A fish-scented Sisyphean effort —— I take…
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Stormy Hearts – Louis Marin
The emotions read like a scene from Poe. Not the Poe of black feathered ravens, tell-tale hearts, beating, slowly beatingdriving us mad from their shallow graves.Beneath the floorboards they were hidden. Not the Poe of black feathered ravens, slowly preening and fluffing every featherto assure a velvet smooth polished finish. Upon the bust of Pallas…