the air hangs thick with dead electricity


Iceberg, 1891 by Frederic Edwin Church

Culture
-- by assata shakur

i must confess that waltzes
do not move me.
i have no symphathy
for symphonies.

i guess i hummed the Blues too early,
and spent too many midnights
out wailing to the rain.

Moral
-- by merry fortune

days acting like nights
come and go
like unjust profanities
casual and vain
louse ridden
like a good whore
not quite easy
not quite all there
the only one
in a half-lit room
crying for exposure
tempting you to exist

Sound Effects
-- by janice eidus

the sound waves of our orgasms
could destroy entire Japanese villages
in horror movies

and one of us could make a fortune
coming as the tornado in a remake of
the wizard of oz

Write a fucking poem
-- by Michael Golden

every fucking time
you don't know what to do
you'll have a body of work
despite yourself.