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Jamie Sharpe :: Four poems


All Leech Diet

New, fat-free, addiction. After death
life isn’t matter. What Vicodin fiend
craves ice-cream? Hunger for

acclaim, paychecks, publishing in
The Walrus. Tusks stick me. I’m eager
to staff underpaid interns baring

Kraft Dinner for breakfast. Sushi
schmutz on fat whiskers. Eskimo kisses
leave their mark. Bloody genius,

dimes in your hand spring
dollars but they’re spent.


Pall

Got good at getting
society’s creature comforts
without participating.

Damned if I can
fill the TD1 Personal Tax
Credits Return.

It’s clammy here under
this communal blanket.


Semaphored Hello
To the Ivory Lighthouse

Given endless expression you matter
in aggregate, served on uniform sheets.
These rocks are comfortable. Flash me

a gangplank and I’ll find my waterbed.
This is the signal for heavy, freezing spray.
I want to say I’m lost

in this fog
but I’m lost
in this fog.


While Coach Plays
the Back Nine at Pebble Springs

Cheerleaders, blindfolded and lined,
against a stone wall in a field with no markers,
no goalposts. A lit cigarette hangs loose

from Danika’s lips. When it’s gone,
she’ll be also. My riffle, amongst many, trained
on her. Please leave no red inscription

on that black and silver uniform.
The Oakland Raiders have had
a very bad year.


Jamie Sharpe is the author of three poetry collections, Animal Husbandry Today, Cut-up Apologetic & Dazzle Ships.

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submissions :: where is the river

Up to six poems in a single .doc file with author biography and photo to kieferjdlogan@gmail.com

All rights revert to the author/s upon publication.

issue three :: January/February 2018

Elidio La Torre Lagares :: Six poems

walking in Rome
male cicadas foretell the sun
the distance of rain as we walk
through Rome on the 25th of July:
the history of Empire

i touch the breath of fireinside
my mouth birds peck at
dormant words under my steps

roads lead into alibis for an idea of time
when tutte strada vanno a Roma

lady Cicadas, on the other hand, treasure
silence around the marbled stories
of Villa Burghese

Sophie walks beside me painting
the air longing dreams
the world conforms a canvasher voice
a ripe fruit that floats
on the Roman landscape

from the hills of Villa Medici the city
spreads like the wings of an eagle of light
constantly diffusing emergingsomehow
the impending clearance of dependences
melts with the gradation of memories the precise
clockwork of stages

with loss and life to gain

clouds travel homeless



colosseum

The Roman Colosseum-
round as a certainty
or the eye of a hurricane-
was once one of the
seventh wonders
of the world. But, little
is known of it compared
to the years it has outlasted
time and earth…