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Perseus, Hurry!
by Ida Duplantier
Am I Andromeda?
For I am chained
In shackles of your love
And I am pained
By Death's foreboding waves
About my feet.
The creature comes for me -
His helpless treat.
Am I Andromeda?
For she was spared.
A hero with winged feet
Proclaimed he cared.
But I see no such man
Across my skies.
Am I a different victim?
One that dies?
The Final Petal
by Ida Duplantier
A blooming rose was picked
And in its vase it flourished.
It drank the crystal water
But soon became malnourished.
Without a drop to drink
It wilted into brown
And as the flower was tossed away
The final petal spiraled down.
Call me
by Clyde Borg
Call me when:
Rain rages,
Snow showers,
Wind wails,
And rivers rise.
Call me when:
Rain relents,
Snow softens,
Wind weakens,
And streams still.
Call me
Call me
Behind Doors Ajar
by Christina M. Rau
Made-up ends of twin beds, white corners
Tight with comforter turned down and bottom
Hem an inch above burbur carpet, both green.
Remote control on the chair, buttons towards
The teal cushion. Chair facing the dark
Alcove. A suitcase open beside it on the floor,
Red bikini bottom limp over the side.
Woman stands, cries.
Woman on the corner of the bed, stooped
Over to tighten a loose lace.
A pacifier and a rattle, and a single brown glove.
The Gluttony of Wildfire
by Christina M. Rau
Fire has a big appetite.
It will eat acres of woods
And in those woods
blue
eggs, yet to be hatched
broken
twigs, branches, nests
burrows,
squirrels, nuts
buds
unbloomed
It will eat acres of grass
And in that grass
black
ants, red ants, armies of ants
bees,
queens and drones
blonde
boys and girls lost at play
bottles,
beer cans, emptied in afternoons
It will eat acres of homes
And in those homes
brushes
for teeth, hair, and lint
bellbottoms,
vintage
banks
shaped like pigs
bonnets,
fedoras, ball caps
It will eat acres
And in those acres
It will consume
bottomlessly,
endlessly
It will roll, tumble
burn
through and consume
Until it encounters
And consumes itself.
Passionate breathing floats, 1844
by Thomas Carlsen
Amanda's words leave her mouth on fire, "Why do
you ignore me?-"
Behind the dressing screen, Joseph's shirt, unbuttoned.
The minor's dress peeled to her knees, entwine.
Joseph, just as hot; bites.
"See to it that it stops-" pinching her nipple.
Joseph, to his knees, hands grasping haunches; relieved, his face, once
again buried in
his lover's pungent blossom - His finger, deep.
"When are you going - to ask Uncle for my hand?-"
Soon, savoring the redolence.
SUDDENLY,
the door slides.
The couple freeze:
One of Amanda's hands presses Joseph's face into her hot sex - the other,
pushes his
finger deeper.
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So scared
by Michele Rocha
I was so scared I offered my first born to a passerby
I passed an entire season on the couch
I always wore two pairs of underpants
and I could hear the vermin outside plotting murder
I can't say more
Sleep
by Prawin Adhikari
We know how sleep lets any odd thing visit.
On days when it refuses to come, must
be there are new monsters barking at the
gates. Laying awake and counting aches in
each joint, trying to count sheep and the shards
of sharp wakefulness, simply breathing
and waiting for the lull and sweet of night--
those unseen forms still pry into our heads.
And jolted waking only reminds of
what's just been lost--there had been sleep and dream,
though tepid and horror-brushed. Toss again
and return to hell, where mirrors abound--
for, surely, man's torment is more of him
reflected in his mind's sanctuary.
Confused
by Venetia Ghozlan
occasionally I would like to feel love
but it gets confused with passion, need
and a craving not to be alone
where in the dark, the murky corners mock
singularity
you see
in the sun
I can forget the loneliness
in that lemony light losing self
surrounded by the masses, crowded vistas, and daily travails
just a telephone call away
from a conscious somebody, anybody
however impersonal
but a queen size bed in the dark is a barren empty place
when the moon shines or venus is not covered by mars
a comforter offers no comfort
Eating sheep head! - Recipe
by Mazhar Butt
Cow feet and sheep/goat feet are a delicacy in Pakistan
as well. When cooked these
bovine feet are very delicious though a bit sticky due to lot of gelatinous
substance
present in them. They taste good when taken with plain boiled rice or
fermented bread
similar to pita bread. If the stew is diluted it can be taken as soup.
Add as many
condiments to it as you like, but just enough not to spoil its original
flavor.
The other thing eaten as a delicacy here is sheep or goats' heads, without
ears, nose, eyes
and, of course, dehaired. Brain is of course eaten fried or cooked separately.
I will try to post some Pakistani recipes for the information of friends.
Only you will
have to reduce the amount of chili as we eat a lot of chili like the
Mexicans.
Ithaka
by Constantine P. Cavafy
As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find things like that one on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon - you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfumes of every kind -
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean
Translated from the Greek by Edmund Keeley &
Philip Sherrard
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