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For Pippa by Mandy Mitchell

Tiny raging wailing Two-year old With scrunched up eyes And mouth open wide Belting out loudly The world’s injustices How easy to console Scoop you up in my arms Gather you on my lap And as I write my poetry...

Day At The Beach by Genna Gardini

Strip off your skirts and wade into the lapping gape, where the sand is a mouth against your underwear. We want to be amalyzed, grabbed by the back of our one-piece, sent nylon-large and packing into a cavernous gullet, widening...

Art Critic At the Beach by Genna Gardini

This seawood is just spool. It’s green and long as a projector’s tongue. And the rock it’s on seems plastic-knifed. Debowled, like an old VHS. It doesn’t work for me. But then, suddenly, the sea arrives and edits the scene...

Spirit by Brendon Hepburn

The haunting of the lost spirit in you, provides a gateway for the unknown evil to enter your hart, and bleeds out the endless questioning of your exists. Merely stating a choice and making the dark side, to obvious for...

The identity by Brendan Hepburn

Forbade the truth from these ears as if to sanctify the being within, and glory falls on the heart of the weak willed, forth you bring the problems of the dying yoke. Wisdom you seek in self-righteousness, but only failure...