there is a dirt road thunder
away from city limits
dust and grits
and over burnt coffee
crows feet eyes
and indistinct touch
nothing cellphone can resolve
jukebox clicks to vinyl
see her in the kitchen
with a smile
I will eat her pie

there is a dirt road thunder
away from city limits
dust and grits
and over burnt coffee
crows feet eyes
and indistinct touch
nothing cellphone can resolve
jukebox clicks to vinyl
see her in the kitchen
with a smile
I will eat her pie
cumulonimbus squall
of a headache
tore me out of delirium
to blister pack paracetamol
choked almost
that raw pharmaceutical taste
mug of tea
apple spiced
wishing the phone
would cease
exhausted now
as silence fell
I took to being asleep
with tainted tongue
and abstract thoughts
Issa Lopez delivers a film , now streaming on Shudder that will in parts crawl inside or just be absorbed , a young cast who are accomplished , honest and natural Estrella played by Paola Lara makes you feel each strand of loss and abandon , and El Shine she meets who is so succinctly played by Juan Ramon Lopez each and every cast member gives something , so much so that there time on film is not wasted.
When it comes to production I don’t think you could ask for more, Juan Jose Saravia handles the cinematography in a way that like in a documentary you live it fully, underpinned by Vince Popes score that steers , aligns but but never overwhelm.
This truly is 10/10 film and I look forward to what Issa does next
I look at my penis
skin collar
lychee tip
then piss
a long straw stream
you are not a memory
you are a gift
finger folds
and soften furze
we know we belong
but until when
the scythe decides
Chris Lawrence
when apes discover genocide
I wonder how long I will linger
on the verdant green and blue
insulated by my own sickness
that brackish bile
of human contempt
apes will sing not our mythology
but one of burnt forests
and dried out lakes
human carcasses so vile
carrion crows refuse
to dine without the thought
of consequence
and I will lie down
human leaf litter
becoming fertiliser of the new
season a generation
or era where the truth of nature
will win
Chris Lawrence
paper cuts once
more painful
than the striating
marks on the heart
each ventricle incised
life a blood force
poured as if from
an unblessed chalice
closing eyes
cannot make you hide
slow each breath
coax intuition
to help
it is going
yield and go
fear of life
the greater threat
even with her
whisper kisses
stairs cluttered with toys
piled to be removed,
except one
that discreetly coiled
it’s own way down,
suction brush
to that clattering canister,
a sound
disturbing to child and cat,
drowning calls
of the need to suckle
partake in natures feast,
goddess did not yield
flowing locks
size fourteen
barefoot
not pregnant anymore,
prepared her strength
as he in den,
stressed oblique
took their life up his nose
snorting and breathing,
saying he had control,
yet so far from shore
he was unable to wave,
her way
inhaling only air
with bare soul
loaded the car with kids
and left,
leaving vacuum writhing
a headless cobra
on the hall floor
Action Figures by Edith Vonnegut
alone on a dreams forgotten shore
that stray thundering sea
reached towards the sky
wind creased and folded grass,
elemental human hearts
away from pale insignificance
chime together
the fire has not vanished
silent dune blue air,
these memories will scar
and no holy intervention
can claim a dedicated tear
sigh and embrace
an eloquent arrival of intimacy
ripe silent love
ingest the once plain indifference
short breath saliva glisten
someone else can trace you
by indentation in the sand
and what sea birds say
in discordant voice
are you a pedestrian
crossing that narrow inlet
of water,
once tormented by salmon
quick flickering to spawn,
no cars or vehicles
yet still you walk,
with a wake about your boots
head down,
light was changing,
and that thread of thought
was anchoring your brow down,
a kiss has a momentum
beyond the lips
carried on a narrow breath
that would never
bring you to a standstill,
salt on eyelashes
cast by the sea
tainting tongue
drying lips,
once clear
return to the cottage
owned by our cities
last blind man,
and wait at the glass