Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Dog Don’t challenge his growls, said the man with no face. Look down on the ground, be humble, not brave. Don’t cry if you fall, the blind girl explained. The field’s full of dog shit, so don’t touch your eyes. Continue reading Dog by Lynn White→
Death Philosophy Someone who loves chilling dancing drinking smoking asks me if I write with an ink? I answer to her with yes, it’s from my pain my ache my lonely my grief with the colour of death philosophy Will Continue reading Death Philosophy & three other poems by Ahmad Al-khatat→
FAT TONY’S THOMPSON They were up playin’ spades in room 268… at the Madison Hotel in Memphis… N’ as Red Lane sang.. “Blackjack County Chain”… A strange knock came… Causin’ their luck to change… Just seconds before… they opened the Continue reading Fat Tony’s Thompson & four new poems by K.W. Peery→
Silent Cancer They have sold me in the black market without bargaining, I was given away not by choice chains of sweats were all over my daily fatigue Pulling me down painfully and bleeding me to dryness without a drop Continue reading Silent Cancer by Ahmad Al-khatat→
Back To Business I used to cut grass as a kid for some extra money. The work was hot and miserable. I envied the paper boy who spent his days running from dogs cursing life all the same. I used Continue reading Back To Business by John Patrick Robbins→
The Secret Life at the Gym “Take no prisoners, baby!” Joe declared, bumping fists with the other guys on exercise bikes, when he came out to the machines from the locker room like a basketball star entering the court, slapping Continue reading The Secret Life at the Gym by Charles Rammelkamp→
Fisticuffs’ Pledge (sing loudly and resolutely in public) I, applicant to fisticuffs pledge that I’ll lay down my grudges, give up all pugilist projects, and send my animus packing. I will study ire no more, I will give up on Continue reading Fisticuffs’ Pledge by Rayfield A. Waller→
A RIVER Rather than write about all the women I’ve fucked, as you suggested I’d rather write about all the women I’ve loved. And the women who have broken my heart. You might ask, how many times can a heart Continue reading A River by Rich Quatrone→
RICH QUATRONE is a poet and playwright living in Spring Lake, NJ. He was educated at Rutgers College and Mason Gross School of the Arts, both at Rutgers University. He and Lorraine Quatrone founded PASSAIC REVIEW in 1979, inspired by Continue reading Gun Love by Rich Quatrone→
Machine Dropped the goddamn wrench again. Scraped my knuckle a third time. The grease and grime sting as the engine’s heat lashes my cheeks. Can’t afford a mechanic, so I become my own for a car I can barely afford Continue reading Machine & Swallowed by Michael Griffith→