The Dot I saw one lonely balloon, colouring a humble sky, growing smaller into a drifting red dot. I, too, grew smaller and smaller wasting away from the eye of the balloon, appearing like a dot, only in a different place. Skin and Bones The fresh skin is not bruised, nor the growing bones broken.… Shiloh: All American Poetry weiterlesen
Schlagwort: english
Vivien Eime
12 poems and two poèms en prose in time hurry the day when i may be out of the race say what i like spit peas out at night. perhaps this time will be gold methinks if it were my heart would breathe at last my tears might be less and my shoulder more able… Vivien Eime weiterlesen
Angelika Fremd
Arrival She adjusted her straps as she walked into the airport coffee lounge. In her brace-and-bib skirt, frilly blouse, suspender belt and stockings, not to speak of her unfashionably flared petticoat, she felt as if she had been packaged and wrapped. I’ve given in again, she thought, dressed to please HIM. Making certain that… Angelika Fremd weiterlesen
Holly Lalena Day
Three Pieces Pat Buchanon Make me believe you, Pat Buchanon, icon preaching from the shaky t.v. screen, sandwiched between Kmart blue-light specials and ads condemning herion my own brand of shakes. Raise my body, cruciform from this nightmare of cold sweats and invisible centipedes this place empty of everything and nothing, the words „junky“ and… Holly Lalena Day weiterlesen
Chris Mann
For a sheet of paper marked with a $ and a ? some five or six inches apart $ ? Hold paper with right hand. Close left eye. Fixate $. Move paper slowly back and forth along line of vision and watch ? disappear at about twelve inches. Self – an addenda without hope,… Chris Mann weiterlesen
Ania Walwicz
Poème en prose travelling the train goes and the station moves away what time is it we’re going to a jungle hot palms i fall asleep drunk talked to himself i know what i have to do did you see the house on fire out of the window did you see the house on fire… Ania Walwicz weiterlesen
Stephen K. Kelen
Trans-Sumatran Highway & Other Poems House Of Rats They’re up there, all right, in the roof playing scrabble, listening to scratchy old Fats Waller records. They started out as a gang of desperadoes escaped from a laboratory, arrived via a garbage truck up overhanging tree branches elbowed their way in & soon the colony is… Stephen K. Kelen weiterlesen
Rudi Krausmann
The House „The house I saw yesterday was extraordinary and its position perfect,“ said S. „It was built on a rock, I believe sandstone, overlooking the Pacific Ocean in total isolation and yet the city could be reached by car within an hour. In the evening one could see the citylights and hear the… Rudi Krausmann weiterlesen
Gerald Ganglbauer: Evading the jaws of giants
Independent publishing in Austria Es gibt Verleger, die produzieren Bücher, um Geld zu erwirtschaften, und andere, die benötigen Geld, um Bücher produzieren zu können. There are some publishers who make books to make money; and others who need money to make books. Helmut Volpers Austria has more in common with Australia than the first five… Gerald Ganglbauer: Evading the jaws of giants weiterlesen
Hewson/Walker
Malevolent Fictions S found the grey truss, the story began. Neither of us knew about trusses. Anger is an energy, he said beating to the electronic band (with the flat sound). We decided on two definitions: the device worn to support a hernia, and, to tie or bind securely. After years of minor decisions,… Hewson/Walker weiterlesen