by George Freek I stare at my unmade bed.Outside, a chilling breezerustles the dead leaves,as if they were feathers.The moon is a ball of lead.I gaze at distant stars,lost in the infinite sky,as if they hadnowhere to abide.A torn shirt, hanging froma tree, waves in the breeze,like an abandoned flag,now…
by Afieya Kipp I loved that night: the sky a cosmic ice cream sandwich—Jula, with her skin like stretched vegetable tanned leather, putting her gypsy bells to work outside my crescent window. A chandelier of cow hearts, goat tongues and bikini waxed bunnies for sale, for sale! Usually, the sign of…