Start the beamer,
thrash the beamer,
smash it into the housing estate.
Wave to the helicopter,
I ain’t sick and I don’t need a head doctor,
it ain’t stealing when I take your car,
it’s just another form of drug …
Posted on 26 January 2010.
Start the beamer,
thrash the beamer,
smash it into the housing estate.
Wave to the helicopter,
I ain’t sick and I don’t need a head doctor,
it ain’t stealing when I take your car,
it’s just another form of drug …
Posted in Issue-92, Poetry0 Comments
Posted on 26 January 2010.
The moving truck is angled backwards in the driveway, and the “For Sale” sign sways a few feet from the blood red X someone spray-painted in our yard. Our house is hollowed out, its insides packed thick and sloppy in …
Posted in Issue-922 Comments
Posted on 26 January 2010.
Josiah Bounderby exploded on a Sunday morning.
His wife, Rachel, crouched in the cloakroom under the stairs, buffered by the winter coats and wellingtons, and stared into the darkness as she pressed the button. The cracks around the doorway flashed …
Posted in Issue-920 Comments
Posted on 26 January 2010.
the pleasures of the damned
are limited to brief moments
of happiness:
like the eyes in the look of a dog,
like a square of wax,
like a fire taking the city hall,
the county,
the continent,
like fire taking …
Posted in Issue-92, Poetry0 Comments
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