Schlagwort: Overload

Overload #31 Eastbourne Songs 1. Right there, at Pencarrow Head, alone Dawn sprung the waves washed o’er the sunblest blood hastily, receding in the tides of your eyes those eyes, irises of misshapen moons limp in your exsanguinated pool right there, at Pencarrow Head, alone. 2. Spume over the road at Point Howard The waves… Trevor Landers weiterlesen

Overload #31 A few more Poems an IMMORTAL GREY 1. Look Arms control – with those eyes hard as a wet winter beach you have no idea. At 14, I worked in a store where loitering pipe smoke prowled gun oil, licked sharp edges of senescent inventory, frozen bait. I was an ear in a… Les Wicks weiterlesen

Overload #31 Three New Poems The Faltering Circus One foot shuffling in front of another without,their children hope, falling: wobbly like on a tight rope, poised on knotty varicose veins, hovering above the breathlessly erect crowd where every spectator in this faltering circus is finally a performer. A Walking Tour “All sorrows can be borne… Thomas B. White weiterlesen

Overload #31 Brisbane Poetry Dervish hung herself: from the hose like a pendent – slung back neck, sweat in the hammock of spine. her exquisite body ratcheting – against the pull, of cotton filled hose Her audience below, where strut winged souvenir seller, carry mini-flags, a sequined afterglow, in dry-throat disciples waiting the dipsomania of… Scott Thouard weiterlesen

Overload #31 Wickedness Arnold Sinclair befriended me on the first day at my new school. I had only lasted one term at my previous school before my mother pulled me out after a row with my father which had ended with him lowering his eyes again, and becoming silent. I found it awkward, what with… Ian C. Smith weiterlesen

Overload #31 A Pretty Crazy Little Vignette Loved One Loved one, it is time to begin communication. To begin, I loved you the moment you stepped from behind the hope hidden within me, not one thing or person, but everything. Gardens themselves have spoken to me. Would you sit beside me? Do you feel me… Arne Sjostedt weiterlesen

Overload #31 Four Poems IN MEMORIAM We witnessed azure shores turn crimson with the crisp, healing wind. Summer came and went with the sun dancing over lush hibiscus, drowning in watery sonnets; manila-papered reflections of sentences never written or uttered, except in prayer. Our verve born in modest clusters, lost in the veiny leg of… Krisette Y. Sia weiterlesen

Overload #31 Texte Anrede die die denunzieren könnten leben nicht mehr wie die die duzen wollten dissen werden die die siezend sezieren: wer wär, ist schon in zureden wie gestellt wider abruf geholt auf offerte zu tätowierern gesetzt die denunzieren könnten nicht mehr (es) extra leben Ausriß einer trichotillomanie waren wir aufgesessen vor verschlossenen klaviaturen… Clemens Schittko weiterlesen

Overload #31 Ottensheimer Geschichten Der Autor dieser Texte legt Wert darauf, dass die Leserschaft weiß, dass der Autor jetzt weiß, dass diese Texte – gelinde gesagt – schlecht sind. (Stefan Rois 2007) Chaostheoretiker Im Abendrot verschwammen die Stadtrandhügel wie magisch mit dem Rosengewölk. Der Sendeturm bohrte sich dort hinten in eine mondlose Nacht. All die… Stefan Rois weiterlesen

Overload #31 On Current Affairs Let Them Eat Cake You have no wood to heat your stoves? Then burn your dead. You have no water, the wells are bombed? Then drink the blood now flowing on the ground. You once sold oil, now burning in the sky? Sell Tupperware, or Amway for a while. And… Gabriele Pötscher weiterlesen