The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
the conjuring of a fuckingnestled, we find a way to fuck in the grass without the world knowing. tree root bottoms have the biggest blades, we scoot. i am not shy to show my backside plumpness, use my hips as a guide, watch how they glide gentle waves over an overgrown patch of garden. you are forest-hungry, you are already diving in, you sneaky little worm. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Veil of WarfareLeap to the future and history books will talk of you
Exactly like they talk about wars now. Your horrors will transmute into heritage sites. Your wrecked stones will trap stories forever. Stories – full of innocence, bloodshed and doleful tears. You’ll speak firmly but your insides will clench Because your heart has skipped beats At every sound explosion on your barren chest. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Thirteen
Here’s a man who could love you like sun loving desert until the skin goes waterless and old. Nothing but your cellphone, a pair of soccer shorts. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
BathroomBy Hardeep Sabharwal QuailBellMagazine.com Homes are inhabited in houses, And in homes, emotions flow, Effortlessly, The innocent giggles resonating in the courtyard, Holding even the vastness of seas, A quest for salvation at the window, buried under the weight of debt overlooking the skies, On rest chair sitting calmly The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Oldest Graffiti Artist in the WorldBy Marc Carver QuailBellMagazine.com I had a thought so I walked into the apple store and went to notes On the first machine I put ARE U ALIVE? The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Second LivesBy Lisa C. Taylor QuailBellMagazine.com I slip the tiny bird whistle into my carryon bag but Sylvan spots it.
“If my father’s Purple Heart can’t go with us, neither can your stupid whistle. We’re starting fresh, Beth.” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Prisoner of wordsBy Phillipe Vicente QuailBellMagazine.com
Intrepid slime of scars, escargot and maggots paving the grains and thrills beneath the constipation of tougher times. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
ProxyThe calls crawl out from the inhabitants of ruins,
and the pusillanimous vacationer covers his ears within a blink. Worse they find him now that he’s gotten used to the food and running sinks. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
GoreBy Lauren Boulos QuailBellMagazine.com Every rat dies. It’s what happens when they run low on their joie de vivre. Detritus is a human word and a good one too, but still it won't explain the mess The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Pro bono
He gets paid to bury the older places, those cherished by our parents. Every revolution needs such a custodian. |