Section » Spring 2005
The Ballad of Trolley-Girl Betty by Greg Santos
Here lies Trolley-Girl Betty ‘neath a belly of dirt. When Betty was livin’ she sure liked to flirt. But men didn’t move her, she wanted power and greed. She used men as her playthings so she could succeed. Bettie Page (photo by Flickr user Olivander) At
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Emergency by Laura Roberts
if poetry’s in a state of emergency and you are the self-appointed medic does this make me the patient suffering from the general malaise? should I sit back and relax while you assure me “this won’t hurt a bit,” and do what you have to do so that I’ll pull through with a
The Golden Seduction of Buddha by Mingus Tourette
The other night I was lonely, and even though it is my lot, being crazy and unfit to marry, I decided to walk and find myself a woman, and went down to the restaurant to see Rae-Anne. It was late and there was nobody else there except two old women who mop and work in the back, and I ordered some food
In Her Kitchen by Nikita Sokol
I fuck her and she feeds me. I lick her like a dog and she offers me oranges. She gives me dried fish and fried potatoes. I lick in between her legs, And I float on apples and tomatoes. Drunk on beef and her meat I lick all over, I lick like there’s no tomorrow. She gives me strawberries and wine. She
Limp Beauty by Dan Symons
Even though English was my first language, and really my only language, I still went to the corner store every morning and bought the French version of the paper. Joseph, the owner and operator of the store, recommended it to me one morning. I told him the main reason I came to Montreal wasn’t
Number Four by Kathleen Savoy
He was at least ten years older than her. He wouldn’t tell her his real age. Neither of them knew why, exactly, that they had first started speaking, but somehow it just clicked. They did it in secret, but unlike other affairs, neither of them let on in the least via paranoia or obvious guilt that
Obituary by Laura Roberts
when i hear that you’re dead and gone i’ll probably ask to speak at the funeral your soul might be looking down just to see who’s bothered to show up and you’ll recognize me cus i’ll be the one who stands at the front and cries “i wish i’d had that filthy drug-induced
