Editors:  Ken Harris, Jim Leftwich
Contributors:  Jake Berry, Jeffrey Little, Chris Daniels, Karoline Wileczek,
Alan Smith, Steve Carll, George Albon, John M. Bennett, Sheila E. Murphy, Eel
Leonard, John Noto, Jim Leftwich, J. S. Murnet, Richard Kostelanetz, Stacey
Sollfrey, C. Mehrl Bennett



hierokinetic pod hatch

somnolent cancers burn
    orpheus from the ring, she is
  passive before the tribunal's meat

talc in the frozen visions,
  of a plastic horn, risen, helixed
like ribbons of stout plucked from a sky 

firm in the joy of her equation
   proffered the glands a jealous serum
  trucked in with the merchant malaise

asphalt is a sleeping monocle,
   the steppes in a stiffened housecoat
 elemental as green lights under ice 

closer to the plough's whisper
    an invertebrae veil of flame
  drinks mirror to crowd her horse's ribs

forgotten bones on the horizon
  crown nothing but tack & trial
 predicate of movement beyond the two

 while she is blood to oracle boiled
     torn from Valhalla shouting
   ticker tape doom, the frayed beautiful edges

no other but the other all together 
 alone, lost sienna in absentia
w/out shout chorus valence or snow 

wise to the make, done to the nines,
      arrows wound in her tresses
  knee deep in white adder

syrup of the grassed hands, graven, 
   the eschatology of tilling, cirrus
twine beneath the currents of hail 

poured hairy wine through 
   bone fethered age, twisted
  across the tracks and lame

a calligraphy of walking sound into 
  sun, of a domed footfall crossing
the climate sewn inside the spinnings

grafted in visceral pockets,
     sputtering mole eyes fester
  with secret, severe knowledge

the colorless winds injected into her
  ancestry are denied the moist 
turbulence that rolls beneath the air   

I gather days twisting through feathers
   bled by the owls that mother
  the vines that suckle fetus-dawn gangsters

in a morning of clip-on bow ties 
   & blatant fez worship the masonic
complexity of the dew is understood

  washer women struggle with dawn
    their guts aching from the whiskey
  their fertile toes I crave to nibble

each morning is a chauffeured 
  aggregate a labored concoction 
of pace swelling into a blossom of sound 

  fragrant breasts of the gondolier's daughter
    swing over my lips like moons
  drunk with pure land void and delirious ruin

crinkle cut fries in the lunar substrate,
  they remind us, washed up on the beaches,
across the cosmos, of a thinning second-hand sun 




Cork off dancing chins lacquer (labial nicks porcelain
gainsharing ritual neglect, the ossified ostentation
("flail) hangers crumpled pants' cheat windows
scrawled with plaintext (we are worthy we, waffled
with the break thought (stand too near the leafy
vestibule near coats uncombed with moths (mouths),
reach the sill or ("sail") twill cinders evanescent
yessings (all aboard ("lecture") sent the twins flat
guess to prom roads verklemmt with robin shards all
purple cans a fly and feta dreaming in the bowls of
furnishings we dandle like soft-headed forbears
groaning in the loam lacks teething, bins, fortunata
stems with puffed rice in them unreachable as
universidade no completo, napping, float above the
chair with lamps considered part of Chillicothe where
swiss chard and tufts that rollick in the silver
night your gleaming sandwich on the porch railing we
admired like portraits of the family snared by walls
of bad ideas ("hats") fluish in the fluorescent door
with spats for hinges and selective service drawstrings:
nostrum, flats, burning peonies, the clues to how we
semble our Antigones or news, slain floats for
classicists to ponder yonder in a stone's throw
piece of flatter, sizzled hair condones the touching-
lease aflay as hard marks quite unusually rolfing
("rust") stand samples egg contrition through the
suit with three unpainted forests pasted on in low
ear sending, sort of through, hazy thrunks with great
removal from the leaves and pegs and, compacted
(froth) sale of sky seized mouth by intuitole a
fragrance kind of guessed or even magnified.




[...] Downstream in speechless Rivers [...]
In the End, Our Lord Spoke to us.
 "Love Has No Body."

My Sister and I must Go now,
Down and Down must Go,
and we will feast on The Meat Of Seraphim
 in Doppelganger Tula, 
  in Doppelganger Uruk
will Dare the Elemental Whores
 Male, Female, Both, Neither,
  Pariahs all,
their cotton candy Dresses, Tunics to flower
 in furious Orange Claw Hammering Down.
We laughed at Our Dear God's Words,
looking Down at our Fruiting Bodies with Almond Eyes,
at our gray-traced Arms their Delta-maps
etched on our Flesh,
coolie Bodies hard with Resin,
mine and my Darling Margarita's,
Coeval Pariah, Mycelial Pearl,
indistinguishable but for Love's Apparata.

 "You need a Fly's Eye to see It,"
 said Our Love. Our Love,
Gentle Mineral Metamere, looked upon us kindly, 
  It's Frenetic Brazen Limbs clanking,
 Impaler chittering, in It's Lust.
He smiled through Her Thousand Platinum Incisors and Spoke again.
(O Wrenching Metallic Voice Of Love!)
 now you must Go.
  Do you Fall?"
Vague Phosphorescent Sex glistening with Mucous and Semen.
   Impaler's Divine Frenzy. 
 "Lord, we Dive."
It Embraced us with It's Thousand Bronze Limbs, and Spoke.
 "Then Shine, Twins, in My Mind."

Whipping Impaler Whirred between us.

In Tophet they bathe between the Rain spayed
among sedentary Stone where Adamantine Dolphins
gather to play and fuck;
 on the third bank of Diyala
they disembowel a Living Goat,
divine the Time to drive the Tribes
through Mud in Babylon.
And Who stands 
      flickering out?
 Nor You nor I, Dear Sister.

The Lord's Mind Hardened in my Bowels.
Rude Impaler emerged Shreiking from my Rictus
 to find the Mouth of my Sister above me,
  She, The Arching One, Mewling in the Air.
 Impaler's Pulse, Herald Of Inward Liquefaction.
My Dear, My Sister, Writhed, I Writhed, we Withered, Stiffened Withershins.
Mephitic Quicksilver, Cenotaph- and Sable-Black,
Profligate Mercury, Black as a Vugh, as Vacuum,
spewed from her Anus.

His Million Eyes are The Black-Jewels-Of-Ruin-
 Her Every Limb hinges Dusk-
  Eschatological Savannah Of Carnivorous Were-Oxen,
  Predatory Were-Gazelle feeding on Mantichore Brains;
  Conical Place Of Land's End, 
    End Of Thought,
 End Of Our Becoming Our Becoming;
  Land Of Our Becoming;
   and End Of Our Becoming.

Then jutting beyond my Sister,
the Impaler Guided my Sex
and joined me in the Sex of  my Sister.

 Aching Trinity,

Our Love swallowed a Gobbet and Spoke.

 "Will you miss anything, O My Beautiful Animals?"

But  Our Love had Eaten our Jaws and we were mute.

Before our Eyes Dissolved
in Tears we watched the Lotus Hooks
approach each other's Nost[rils...
...s]kewerd by Conch Autochthorn
Bastard  Progeny Of Immanence And Decay [...]
LETHE [...]
     Swim, Dancing
 in Doppelganger Salamanca
to Castanets & He-Who-Bellowing-Holds-
Black Pearls Shuffling On Linen,
Black Fire On White Fire Squirming,
Curtain Of Vellum Before The Abyss,
Parchment Trapdoor Opening Over Abaddon,
Portico Dividing Into The Miraculous,
Parchment Lanterns Kindled In The Courtyard,
Sitting Or Standing About,
Building A New Organ Of Perception,
Turbans And Sidelocks In Melodious Discourse,
Plaster And Fountains.


kheperi kheper kheper-u
kheper-kuy m kheperu
 n Khepri kheper
m sep tepy

The Golden Scion kept by mercenary Keltoi:
Woad-stained, Molar-spangled, 
 bearing immane Slughorn Venomsabers from their Spike-Log-
  Fortress- On-The-River in Hordes to flense Roman Loins, 
   those Drummed-To-Naked-Oblivion Suckers
    of Enormous PsychotropicToads.
 Apophis Metamere's Castings
  gathered by hispid Mi-Go on the nameless banks of the
   labyrinthine River on Hidden Leng furnished her
    Scales with Diadems that are Streetlights
     in Babylon's Puckered Brow.

Down to Neter she goes
      trailing her children with her
  a frail sheet of nebulae in her wake -
   the vulva of Anode
        Neter gone
        Neter gone
       asleep &
          purchasing cells for steel-eyed mares

  Gone to Neter-Where-Are-Temples,
   gone Under to marry her Fiery mate.
His Veins are full of Magma, his Anger
         Furnaces of Salvation
   gone to Earth
  to take her Rest
    and Dance among Anemone and Shark,
  Seraphim Meat in Mephisto's Teeth
    gone Down
   until Circuits complete Circuits
in Cathode Diorite
when occur The Blunt-Eared-Typhon-On-The-Prow-Of-The-Barque-Swallows-
 The-Setting-Sun and The Foxers-Drive-The-Sharpeared-Animal-Down, 
Down Will Down
And Be Down
And Down,
when occurs The Hounds-Of-Tindalos-Copulate-In-Sundering-Rage- 
she will be Down
among Cast-Iron Shadufim pistonning parched Earth,
among Symnetrical Tygers buzzing in the Dust,
my Torn Sister
gone Down to the rock of Kemi ---
   St. Anthony-Alone-With-His-Bread, Rapt-In-Starved-Aphrodite ---
  Sophia-Hermaphrodita-At-The-Grove-of-Nemi ---
her Fountain there,
her shining Grave in the Air,
   Down To Goshen
  Better Than Starving In Bomarzo
  Last Fair Deal Gone Down In Zion
   Margarita Gone Down
      My Almond Pearl Gone Down
      With Shulamith Black-Pearl-Ashes In Air
 All Gone Down Where The Dust Blows Forward And The Dust Blows Back   

      Bomarzo's Doppelganger-Maw
   Where Forceps Grope
      Down To That Cave To Be Born.


Steve Carll / George Albon

Taking the grandmother out of the frame
is to count the people in line in front of you, one, two..
a mutual loop of misprision may one day replace debate.
The words burnt out, rhythm lines the air;
someone's sun hangs there, a stutter of sky.  Their needs

were personal, posted
on sliced
colored sheets--there was the "during"
of their study, one's scrutinizing
another's plea.  Thus the library goes across.

The voice which seemed once to speak
out the text rolled open, reaching
the tangentials and vanishing, unplaced.
Reaching for it was act and belief,
a special nail with a cork in it.

From this we made a floating framework
and stretched out, away, on a dark water.
Stars were visible, looking like stars,
and made blue night black
from the intent of the looking--

once, though, you thought "cup", and changed it.
These insistent requests for illumination,
when it was after all that the occluded contents.
Like the questioner making to leave
but concerned not to tip it over.

Up top, the open sea closes over the structure.
Beneath, the grip of fists close on a line of power.


John M. Bennett / C. Mehrl Bennett


Meeting the ball some way tangled on the jagged
edge of window and torn through the shirt-socket,
like a pall of thinking

Gathering sticks from the cold hard ground, er,
drips splattered in the fold of round flesh, Oh
in a card I lay, fooled into a manner, like
folded hands on breast.  (Oh in the yard I
strayed, pooled in my sagging face)

Licks and secrets fueled the fire, heating the
iron that day rolling from the silver-source,
when in the wind, wires controlled the arms and
legs of all, our speech, like our finger-hair,
splayed down a beach



window socks eat the germ smock for sale
at the noodle ranch near two buck two 
commie, yer shit tain't fer peach, i've been 
brushing long strands of mulch that's a biscuit 
moor a fern fermenting the still still it waits, 
shudder, chowder chum twill the gherkin 
contain-her in a swift putty of pouch rot ralph, 
the turnips are leaking forestry shimmers 
where she spreads her wet hot wettie across 
a socket of souse spooned high in his mouth 
mining tacklebox & 7 tailors to slum sleeping 
of course & right fitting between their thumb.




          HE:  What is your name; I'd like to see you again.
SHE:  Is this a bank vault, or your religious shrine?


          What is the occasion for your sudden interest in Tibetan
Now that I'm blindfolded I cannot see if they'll be keeping their threat to
execute me.


What life-advantages do you gain from talking to animals?
          But why are you wearing your mother's dress?


          What time is it?
Time only exists in your dreams, Dad.


Haven't you seen my face on television?
          Why do you want to poison me?


          Where did you get that hideous scar?
Trying, unsuccessfully, to make sure my death would be noticed in the morning


What did the elephant ask the naked man?
          You wouldn't have undressed otherwise.


All those stretch marks around your butt remind me of the typography of
          Follow me and you can enter the cocktail party on all fours.


          I'm on a diet once again.
Does that account for why you brought your toothbrush?


Every night I have vivid dreams of someone resembling you.
          That counts as money around here.


First you must kiss my feet.
          Because they are so short.


          When's dinner, what's to eat?
Didn't I hear a voice emerge from Dad's coffin?


          I know who my father is.
But do you know who your real mother is?


          Do I bore you?
Please don't turn on the ceiling light.


I know at least three gray-bearded men who might be my father.
          Did all of them sleep in your mother's bed.




the boogieman he licked my glass of ass the boogieman
a tin hat hot he wore it shone out my gut spiked tongue
talking trash to the biscuit the piehole & trout the butter
it rolled lapped up by the squat dog by the curbside a
stogie his yap flap yap flapping bent over & spread thin


gutsnake the coat of arms the flag side of happy

moist i rose from the fire


if the wind spoke slowly enough i'd understand a casket
the boxed pine tongue chiseled out from my blade would
split down the center opening lava broth bubbling a newt's
tongue lapping the tastebuds in a biscuit of sunnyside up


i showered w/the boogieman the butter of spam bloomed
full blast out the side of my face the drain it wilted dogside
sausage smoking in a pan choked the watering can a sprin-
kle thankful a gratitude of fur it warms my buckles my hairy  
spine so i wait on the pitchfork of tuna & snout




a can of wet splints
pints compliant cannibals
the babel of quaint 

squints against better
judgment battering the ham
but labeled as bets




There is a now that is feigning wingbreak
and that is harmony.  When to be blind
and make sense of the moving mediums:
the walnuts stabilized in the rising dough.
An aporia augmented by a lacuna.

When we mention hitting the wall
it's a term of what's been captured,
green words moving across a black band,
moored there indefinably but marked with meticulous attention.
(And in the end, the cash you make begins to make sense of you.)

I was thinking--in grecian weather
the open is the home, and drawing
the nod forward like moonstones.
It was cold.  People looked out

at us, like we were brave.
"You wouldn't know us.  We're not famous."
But gaining volume in the background, the combine pushed over
into pure flurries of security.  Openless, we finally noticed.

Something like a circus had been there,
though something else.  Banners only
referred to their colors.
A discipline of tongues set free and set aside

in the same motion.  It was the year of our babbling.
"What we meant" only brought up out of manner.
To make sense of the long curb,
it was chess.  Mercy out of politeness,
witnesses gathering at the gate.

The table rocked like a rock.  Our end narrowed
to the sustaining plot of the ground we'd seen there.
The world is for us to enjoy, that's
what it's for.  Dream-seminars are easy,
like layers of comfort and awareness,

while the usurpers' words lie buried in their throats.
The attractive heart pulls in space for the sparkword's return.
Burnt visions are the price of cramped quarters
but there you are above your shadow--
there are tutors of the verge yet seeking you you must hear.




Four falling waters there, and a firey drain clenched
around my nuts I'm praying they'll sever singing,
in the splashing up laughing for oxygen silver pockets,
a fester, a worm, a mole crooning drips of liveraide.
So the hockings set and learn, mooning a hole or gulped
slushed, the anus wet and eager to deliver fortune (er,
tunes of delving in the spirochetes) played me snake
bobbing harlots in a necklace blown's screaming, er,
reaming the formulation of an afterblow, droplets




there's a flute in the runny nose of deduction that refuses to play my 
requests, thickened and corpuscularly plump as mailmen the delivery
of evening news coincides w/eggs unheard owing to the lumbago of 
the average ear.  it follows that the rucksack is seen.  though the tick
i walk to work grows fat, i've decided on a shaved head a hat and green
peas for lunch. what can't be carried should dig it's own hole.  this is the 
way of the wet nurse in the wilds of vegetative spawn, the creeper who
cramps creole when savales crosses into kine.




Sitting in the imprints between the swim tubes and
toilet bowls where the sheets behind the garage
wave like cheeks in the hot sleep of bones rippling
in front of the dogs ribcage like a sunken nose or a
thigh seeped with milk wilting in their hats
growing rubber noses     the rain turned inside out