Poetry
When does a storm of stupid so abrade the land that the choice is either Deicide or rolling the whole human enterprise into the soft dirt of a fresh grave?
I found a dead rat today, attempting to make its way home into my attic, stricken with the poison I so carefully left by its front door.
Love in a Time of Sickness: A bomb went off riding waves from East to West, an army of mindless motes marched off to a microscopic war.
I can't do anything for you, dear Dr. Ford so for the first time in three months I Swiffer my floor; meanwhile you are speaking for 51 percent of women...
American Love explores the inner workings of a man contemplating today's America that ogles women and distracts from human relations by way of technology.
It's six AM and the horizon is in flames. A cloud drags a wedding dress across fields filled with fall's half-lit rocks. Men in suits walk in single file.
Here is the third (and final) video of the American Pain series written by Austin poet Joshua Kight which touches on the failure of the American Dream.
American Pain rises from the Atlantic like a flounder dragged by its tail from European waters. Transmitted not transformed, but Transmuted, too, on a genetic level. Elation can be remitted at the nearest station of ...
The Sorcerer: There he stood, God’s own lost soul, as if already dead to every meaningful passion he ever had. Yet chanting, he carries forward even after a surrender to suffering had broken glass and ...
I see you and your questions, like “Why had your woman given you this fruit?” Bitten on the heel by a serpent of dreams. You, beheading him with a shovel like slicing an eclair to ...