It's just poetry, it won't bite

Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words, Poetic Insomnia

09.18.10 Posted in Contributor Series 6, today's words by

Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words Poetic Insomnia By Kenneth Karrer They come to me in p-i-e-c-e-s They sit beside my ear and nip and gnaw and chew Symbolisms onomatopoeic (hidden meanings to eschew) wasted on a pillowed  Head. Lightly, slightly, they alliterate and often rhyme and come (again quite late) and claim their […]


Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words, Ode to Nice

09.17.10 Posted in Contributor Series 6, today's words by

Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words Ode to Nice By Christine Tapson I’m proud of you. Charged, sentenced, executed Only you. Every breath you take is bound to be sweet Crisp, clean, and happy. Pretty. We can move away from pain and fear Towards pleasure and love. The destination might seem the same. Underrated, […]


Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words, Blue

09.16.10 Posted in Contributor Series 6, words to linger on by

Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words Blue By Nicole Yurcaba yellow swirling green combining perfectly indigo peacock’s feathers crisp wide-open Wyoming skies Hank Williams’ “Long Gone Lonesome Blues” Pacific, Atlantic oceans Denim–light and dark Teal, cerulean, various shades Union Blue versus Confederate Gray blue-ticked coonhound howling at October’s moon wheat Blue Moon beer, honey-spiked […]


Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words, lights like fencers heads

09.16.10 Posted in Contributor Series 6, today's words by

Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words lights like fencers heads By Mark William Jackson outside a train station fixed to a wall there are lights like heads of fencers, masked and slightly bowed. I saw this as an interesting observation, but you really have to see them for yourself. as I looked at them […]


Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words, Poison Pen

09.15.10 Posted in Contributor Series 6, today's words by

Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words Poison Pen By Jean McLeod Words lie on my paper like dead fish: blackened bones meaningless motes. Smelling of iodine and rot, they straggle, strive ring with slander slither through my fingers onto a sullied page roiling like seas before a slattern storm. Unruly heathens, they slash and […]


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