Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Casey Bush


it's not just kitty-kitty-kitty

the animal has a name

one short shrill syllable

whiskers on fire

baby short cakes

mouthful of marbles

should help

reduce the swelling

we are all sitting ducks

fish in a barrel

like desk workers

chained to office cubicles

potential target practice

for a piece worker

gone postal

first a near fatal

dental floss accident

then splintered toothpicks

pierce my cheeks

you thought

it was the cat

getting fucked

underneath the car

but soon enough

you'll get used to it

children in this neighborhood

always scream like that.

perhaps you have wondered
why the homeless often possess large dogs
the difference between spare change and a  predatory loan
a change in scenery and a change in diet
an unexpected trip to the Central African Republic
hustled out of the Men’s Room with only your word against his
sympathetic futility is encouraged
low expectations rewarded
resistance to questioning is of no use
the average Joe on the street knows right where he stands
ready to bite the hand that feeds him until he chokes
citizens retreat into the safety of their mortgaged homes
so that they can watch dumpster diving on American Survivor
the real bums stay out on the street corner longer
they know they are better off without cable television
basking in the companionship of man’s best friend
and in fact the homeless actually have many homes
just that none of them are very comfortable
culvert under the highway
bench in the park
backseat of an abandoned car
melody whistled in the middle of the night
tucked under a warm fur blanket
with a wet cold nose.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Ionuț Ionescu

Nu mai ştiu să ajung de la un gând la altul
de multe ori greşesc străzile
văd înaintea mea un schelet proiectat pe sticla mată
desfăcută fâşii între stâlpi de oţel
O dimineaţă fără soare cu capul în jos
alunecă între mine şi începutul neterminat
de unde mă priveşti din ce în ce mai puţin

Vreau să mă vadă cineva cum ridic mâna
şi să urle într-un vid incolor
Nu ţi-am găsit corpul
nu mai scrie
faţa ei e întoarsă în pasăre

Văd cum timpul se scurge din streaşină
Am călcat în umbră şi m-am rostogolit într-un câine
pielea se întinde către noapte
aproape ieşită de sub degete
se aude un cal plecând
Părul îţi cade încet peste lună

Sunt un ciocan lucios pe amândouă părţile
rezemat în aer ca un clopot
se izbesc aproape de margine cărămizi
care au fost oameni
Vreau să mă îmbrăţişez invers
cu sabia aşezată sub cap

Mi-au slăbit venele în aşteptare
mă vedeam ridicat prin oase ca un gol
rămas între ferestre
M-am gândit să caut unde am pus mâna ultima dată
pe o deschidere lovită de întuneric
aşa cum îl înghiţeam încet
am coborât pe lângă mandibulă
acolo ceva ca un fel de rouă mi s-a pus pe degete
dar am cuprins cu teamă linia umerilor
şi am făcut un arc între mine şi moarte

Mai aproape de corp
zgâlţâită în pereţi
cum soarele cade felii pe o bucată de carne
nemestecată cu umbră
cred că e spre marginea mea de ieri
Îmi vine să îmi dau cu capul de iarbă
să o fac alta din tot ce nu e
şi să plec

Timpul merge pe bicicletă
e tăiat în cerc
în spatele orelor nevăzute se deschid sertare
singure şi aşteaptă
Lumina cade peste animale care plâng
se lovesc unul de altul la ţărm
ca nişte ambarcaţiuni fără pasageri
cu motoarele oprite în atingerea elicei cu aerul 

A strănutat
apoi a vorbit altfel
nu putea să zâmbească
Am coborât cu tatăl meu pe scări
una era mai înaltă ca aerul
dar l-am acoperit cu umbra
eram în sala maşinilor şi el a ieşit încet
fără să aud cum se închide uşa

Ovidiu Alexuță


Sunday, May 12, 2013

Thax Douglas


grabbed by
both jaws the
love between
the walled-city
amoeba and
the exploding galaxy
is turned inside
out dilating onto
a size-differential
that loveless soul
can fall through forever-
these size-differential
love tunnels clot
into a giant forced
against its
aching hugeness to
walk by
the urgent

Doru Chirodea


most gods
most of the time
like the mississippi lynched
and the twin towers scorched
who can't hear you anymore
your barely unscathed wives
on revolving gooky beds
spread eagle there
for your certain consideration
and predictably
you mistake them
for albino capybaras
scurrying down
the primeval sea beaches
to the mother
of all flatulence
which is now
conveniently avoided
in public
and deeply forgotten
as being
the spring
of all non-mineral things
just as you are
as all there is
to be
from now on
recedes into
a pure drop
of momentous accumulation
of spam
sandwiched between
most gods
who sleep
most of the time
just as the great lion males do
but when
at last awake
all their new pride's cubs
for reasons
only people
just returned
from endless vacations
seem to be able
to justify
halfdreaming windmills
set in motion
by masters
busily dead
hairline cracked
stump arms
in perfect
perfunctory spinning
for passportless barefoot tourists
of moist fresh guavas
served postcoitally
by third millennia slaves
aggressively overpaid at work
yet mutely self destructive
on their calm home street
the nearby parked car
blows up
and your child
is instantly fractioned
in 9112001
strangely jagged bits
of brilliant red flesh
of your own
but you survive
you weren't there
to begin with
and anyway
you can't remember
who had told you
long ago
that some place
some where
a war kinda's going on
that involves
some other guys
not you.

esteban valdes

Up the Mountainto​p-Sube al Monte 2011

Michael Dec

Pawn Shops and Hillbillies

 Well, I look  a mrror of bones aged guy who has few real friends. I feed birds, smoked ham, sourtrout get awkward wind my goat knucles in lun transmission fluid, kick out of all their antics, except Alice
when some kind of storm and am sailing into  a three-fisted Polack mirrored my second childhood.
a few seconds ago · Like, dig me, I'm a Pygmy in eternal twilight
As if a stormchaser in the toilet, tampoon with radar withdrawn beard shovels "vowels"at the assumed enemy state.
The goddamn state. (The phony dunce cap to avenge) (perpendicu£ar}
There are laws that were written by a guy & there's the right thing thee moral imperative floods you itch skullcap itchy skullcap baby disease (he's got a great disease!)
the mind recoils like a shotgun boogie ghost; Haint @ copshop damn lunar bungling
Girl, please to take shrubbery temperature use rubber thermometer (belted)
Rust my knuckles, automatically feeding the monkey til near puke, sardined disadvantages,
like the dustbowl thunder on the pitch, something a porcupine would say lost in space
You ooze haze with your peanutbutter? Dialectics kill.
Return to kicking pillbugs ant rendering watch, lender, I owe you a eraser? That's grammatical bombast at age 8.
Enuf, or too much, as Blake sez.
I will not brutalize his waveforms.
Hail the dancing worms! the government drug tests!

What burns well with ginger?

Bogdan Puslenghea

vain & functional

the light was warm and melancholy
as they climbed up to the sun
as they walked in the wind
as gloom laid on upon their faces

ashtrays seashells clocks nothing
landslide in a simple techdream

Joy of living….dead
Importance of memory….dead

Mad june

Everybody is everything
And everyone knows the
whole story by now

After the furious April and the venoms of may
A hot melancholia spreads wisdom and pain

A loud world of sublime voyeurs
Is peeking on and on under the gods’

I decompose my self in every pose
As years taint myself with prose

In the House of melted mirrors
the movie cameras revoke the lost hanging
of the laughing puppets

Hey, tell you baby, this existence will not stop
We will pretend perfection and this will be it

Mudjune. Everybody is everything
And everyone knows the whole story
by now 

in a dreamscape 

we around here 
we’re interested in dreams 
just around here;
with a little luck
they’ll gonna let us
relieve the 60’s
fight our battles over again
and maybe the 20’s,

for now
it’s good to be
in the 8o’s

this is the sleep!
monitoring station
there are signs of extreme agitation
something’s wrong
wake up
or dream more

with a sax o'phone tone

don’t listen to the past
past examples past history
(posthistory - surrealstory)
-connect yourself to the machine
do it over again repeatedly
sleeping or awake
your mindw’ll conform 
with the dreamer’s

open that door
don’t ask for more

First tunnel

keen on infant
the bitter
of flesh and
name altogether
in an abyss of
(this fusion
with beauty
and despair
will allow you
to perform
material acts)
From do ut des
to love
you suffer
of power
Take these
in your face
and stay blind
for a while
out of
dignity,I’d say

Friday, May 10, 2013

Mark Sargent

“Detroit was once America’s fifth largest city.”


How large is that?
Who counts?
In terms of mass, or vehicles?
Number of Catholics per square block
or Jews, do they live there too?
How many?
What about darker people, how are they counted?
And rodents.
And transsexual toothbrush repair people?
Where fit?
This guy sucking bad coffee, looks a bit like Bolaño,
whispers, reading is more important than writing
and I no exactly
with a heart gob tourniquet tightened tension that
was always a jive sentiment
much as
gives us nothing.
What about raw food advocates?
And staggering figures built from bacteria?
What’s the math?
Who makes the numbers crunch like breakfast cereal
like electric canine therapists like
like, okay, sure
Zarathustra in Timisoara
I mean the
eternal recurrence of the same
counted over
über counting
super duper über counting, muthafucka
seven, none, forty-eight, ninety-nine
being counted skewed?
One hundred and twenty four humans of indeterminate age and shape
are sent into the streets with hand clickers and instructed to click once
for every living thing over the course of eighty-three hours…
When Pasolini died,
what was the percentage of loss
and could that loss be prorated over the next millennium?
How many comrades really died during the fake Romanian revolution
and how many merely made television?
What’s the ranking of Detroit if you count windows?
Three-legged dogs?
What about leverage?  May the city borrow
against its human mass?
Or do they call that illegal immigration
or economic flow or I got it,
Collective worker yoga, yeah.
Only by dying at birth can you
occupy one space
that can be precisely counted.
And the null set,
where is that inserted?
We do not eat math,
it works the other way.
Our hunger isn’t a quantity
can’t be placed next to anything
doesn’t add up
but shouts out
and I’ll post them
to the void.

Thursday, May 9, 2013







dan raphael

The Opposite of Peaceful is Atlantic

where the oceans flooding yin yang,
the monkeys whose compass-tongues always point to salt,
those who never learned to piss down:
                                                                 when i let go I don’t fall
but so many leaves holding our image in their atomized jaws butcher sunlight
and use everything but the cosmic debris, the old wrappers,
                                        songs from sit coms we cant conceive—

down one spiral arm and aerosoled into a thirsty umbrella
whose seed pods become the missing ears of cats & guineas,
evolved limpets convincing us to attach them to our eyes and necks
receiving 400 channels of air, premium atmospheres, the same breath
pressed and flavored into so many menus, 
                                                                    from hands    to leafs    to slices of bread
grown into cottages yeasting a galaxy of  fermentation and breakdown.
from my pants I make half a sailboat; with 3 fish I spur cadres of urban street swimmers
furrowing into raised beds, inexplicable suspensions
                                                                                        as the rain stays on the ocean,
as many hands and feet become fish launching into freedom
                                       launch into freedom as fish

Dog Days Romania  (for doru)

I let the dog out of the bottle
I picked the bottle before it was dry
the bush wasn’t a net yet
spiders over the horizon

dog bed rising, glass bell leaks
bushy-tailed tree-rats random dance of forestry
3 years later I remembered where I parked it
despite monthly mowings

I opened the bottle and went inside
are those epaulets or wading pools
my phone barks, my door-dog howls,
smoked meat smell moves around invisible

the wind is a hissing loop
I have to fondle to know how to cook it
cracking the refrigerator like a safe
like an egg for a gear shift

I scratch to make fire
full bottles are instant karma
as if each car in the mile long train was another story
when the moon makes shadows sing

Noon Fireplace Downstairs

even on the hottest day the hotels fireplace keeps burning, gas.
slowing for the midnight ghosts, unseen flares stepping into half asleep skin
strike another match, draw a square of paper on dark air

when trees stop giving milk we let them run
gliding on their own shadows like wings the wind avoids
I spread my 20 fingers beneath the relentless sun
but get neither sweeter or more energized

takes the first cold night to remind me of fire not in the sky,
sky that would rasp my fingers clean, fingernails gathering their future
with dreams of a spring no ones yet savored

what do we do with the heat we keep exiling from our comfort,
getting the oven up to 600 degrees to bake a pizza in 7 minutes
the oven so hungry & premature

every so often the first shovel into earth brings water pungent with festering silence
more silence than we can handle with our clothes & skin removed
the moss of our souls keeps us together, our mycellial momentum carrying us
from ice to steam escaping the soil in a 30 year elevator
opening into everything

The thicker the meat

if i could tell the thicker meat whose essence i inhale,
lungs like caves sparkling with the dreams of bats
whose bodies are too large to get out into the alleged night
they’ve never seen but smell in the messages their intentions transmit
like food from the radio empowering my polarities 
i skip like two jump ropes braiding the air between all four limbs
as i cartwheel in a concrete hoop teaching me several languages
one character at a time, where i press to spring and spin through 
an undulating meadow of grasses and flowers fallen from the winds pockets,
flushed from trains passing with their eyes closed
between large cities threatening to cover the meadow
like a blanket as big as the sea, rolling in itchy, smothering waves
on my bare summer skin as i try to sleep in a crate
whose windows are expensive tvs i see my changing face
with narrative adventures elapsing behind me like colorful milkshakes
of ingredients i cant spell—like an orange but square,
like cinnamon but caustic-- when the  two women embrace
i smell thunder and sense a change in my internal demographics
as my right arm is a complex survey, teasing me
with the power of pictographs im from the wrong culture to grok—
i don’t draw i doodle, connecting the lines, jumping the shadow of
white paper as if a lampshade it take five days to get around,
standing where the sun is on a string,
throwing off heat and music as it asks all the air it passes through
to help it stop or at least linger someplace long enough
to mend its lifelong suit too bright for us to discern
the splendid tapestry coating my throat
to influence my voice dampered by the weight of the lungs
 so full of eager expressions unable to form a line
thin enough to escape this narrow opening

Dr. John M. Bennett

Dr. John M. Bennett

Dr. John M. Bennett

John M. Bennett   May 2013


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lag intentif  :wo
bbble s trung g
lobber pus neg
ate s uch st
ringing omnopostive
where yr  )g glob
wheel ,))la milpa
)))en llamas ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



the ,cake shoit ,tombo
,my tata ,fineal ,pul
decrepitud ,yr shern
or shorn lake ,tus
jarras hundidas ,de
sangrietas las mhanos
los hanos tus shapelest
,tus scarings or scarrings
tus mis caries del habla
premaduro ,maturado en
el viinno de tus soobbaaccoos
.my race crawls



Sor  Tilegio y ,tuerto
con double vision ,la
camista gané la ca
misa perdí me plerdí
.)en contronco en la P
laza Yaxche(  the
fork path tine the
grave l or mu d my
feet in ea ch hc ae
Ay yr swelling cat
a falco n !  )ay the
mumbling in the panty
con los por ontos en
vasculados con los o
jos avinadagrados...

morti ,empti ,en vuelto...



be ts o’ ,k not sh
,adow pile  )yr a
ft   (   er lab io
labialic indentention
lake o fla
ke a way                    
tease the teeth an



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cor n’s air the ampled
p ile  .age of ash a
,t ent ity s warming an
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ye s tink y es mor ada
d onde un co jón  ...£  rat
ificada la nube  lo flot
ante de tu ojo  )))que el
que so mático ,con cha de
tu(((...  ]ппп[  ]la maz
orca sem ántica[  cha
rrred in the middden



S wam th b read lagke
●●● w arm s pit s ●●●● lo
dged again st me s pine a
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ate my :single one ,a sh
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sed onna for k[=  an pl
anned the sp read cagke  )))o’er
the tos sing br ine(((  yr to
wel jammed “again st” the g
rime ,prou dly riddled on yr
arm...  ]folded cave[

...t loaf... 

Roberto Ncar


DEGU is about to beget its #1 issue

Editor Doru Chirodea