Magdalena Jagelke

Marotten Mein Schlüsselbein ist gebrochen. Ich spüre im voraus Regen, das jagt mir Angst ein. Wären nicht Schmerzen Pflichten und die mürrische Floristin, könnte ich den süßen Tropfen in der Kaffeetasse schmecken. Du mit deinen schnellen Füßen machst mich so unglaublich wütend. Zugegeben ist es unschön, Anderer Schuhe zu stehlen, aber trete ich wie du,… Magdalena Jagelke weiterlesen

Christian H. Soetemann

Ontic Stories Basic Statement: Everything is. As there as there can get Ray of sunlight reflected by the silver clasp of my writing board. It’s a tiny dot mirroring the presence of the sun, but it’s one evidence revealing itself. Others are more apparent, I see, like the vast amount of light coming into this… Christian H. Soetemann weiterlesen

Prasenjit Maiti

Prose Poetry from India Sound of Silence You are there and you are not as the doors would neither open nor close and I may see you now while the very next moment my sorrows blind me, my sorrows that are quite so gay and straight and black that I may not see you dressed… Prasenjit Maiti weiterlesen

Christian H. Soetemann

‘ontic’ short stories //Grey lever The ironing board possesses a small grey adjustment lever on one side which serves to open up this object so that the process of ironing clothes &c. can begin. Hence this lever, probably made of steel, has got a distinct purpose. Yes, I do iron my clothes from time to… Christian H. Soetemann weiterlesen

Chris Chapman

Poème en prose LINUS (walks) up the street, of any inner suburban domain. up the laneway, into the main street, on the corner is a smart italian restaurant, but those people eating their $25 vongole at the stainless-steel tables on the footpath, aren’t they a little freaked by the: drunk homeless guy, hungry punters from… Chris Chapman weiterlesen

Michael Crane

24 Postcards From the End of the World Postcard Dear citizens of Earth, We are the defeated and the betrayed. We are the vagabonds begging forgiveness. We are the crippled and the maimed. We are alone and unloved. We are the aged and the weary. There is no happiness or joy. There is no depression… Michael Crane weiterlesen

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

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