The Hidden Fist | Joshua Gage

Image: Rocco Dipoppa

The Hidden Fist

Your right hand squeezes,
hoping to milk blood
from the stones of our body.

In its grip, you resurrect
an age of tailfins and lunar discovery,
but you also manifest
the unholiest of sins,
a generation of blind eyes
and cancerous banks.

Consider how many of us descend
to take communion at your altar rail.

Offer us your compassionate bread
and a chalice of wine
fermented from your tears.

With a single snap of your fingers,
we will beat our wings to help
rebuild your temples.

Cradle us
———— in your left hand.

Joshua Gage (he/him/his) is an ornery curmudgeon from Cleveland. His newest chapbook, blips on a screen, is available on Cuttlefish Books. He is a graduate of the Low Residency MFA Program in Creative Writing at Naropa University. He has a penchant for Pendleton shirts, Ethiopian coffee, and any poem strong enough to yank the breath out of his lungs. Follow him @pottygok.

Hymn for the Powers That Be | Dustin King

Image: William Morris

Hymn for the Powers That Be

I have a story to tell, a picture to weave behind your eyes.
Blood steamed from the sands. Dinner charred on all sides.
Slip into the bath. Sip tea. A lot of hot liquid at once.
Night after night we remember what we achieve in dreams.
Forgotten in the silence of the morning, the deafening stirring of coffee.
We mouth breath into each other’s mouths. We purr and hiss into the abyss.
In the west mountains move. A whole tree floats down the river.
In my backyard I prod air with a finger and it ripples.
Lines of ants spiral out and under front doors.
A neighbor sobs. A neighbor chops carrots.
A dog barks. A child scolded. Chop chop. And again.
Light shines off the azaleas’ white petals that brown as they wilt.
What will the weeds cradle, gobble? Today is Sunday. Reset day.
Streak of yellow house finch. Buttercup gold dust between my toes.
Day of apologies, forgiveness. Ask for it and receive it in an inhale.
Exhale. In the east waves wash away footprints where we never walked.
Grubs in the garden swallow dirt in the dark.
Speak to the dead. Who dares speak for them?
Is anxiety just the fear of being afraid? Neighbors point to the sky:
A hawk’s arc. A contrail’s swipe. Clouds morph,
take on their many shapes. Swine, toaster, werewolf, Ferrari.
The breeze whispers into trees’ ears, storm, storm.
Where did the birds go? Those first few drops keep their promise.
Sections of the city brimming. Dancers in the downpour.
Metal screeching out of time with the earth’s humming veins.
Then dusk again. Bats spell it out as mosquitoes disappear midair.
The stars! There are more the more you look.
Pray there is appeasing the powers that never were.

Dustin would always rather be sneaking a bottle of wine into a movie theater. When nothing good is playing, he teaches Spanish and runs a small organization that provides aid to the undocumented community in Richmond, Va. His poems pop up in the Potomac Review, Ligeia, Drunk Monkeys, Sublunary Review, and other spots. His poem “Progress, Mexico” appears in an earlier release of poems from the South Broadway Ghost Society.  

speaking in bootongue – mark blickley and amy bassin

hourglass

New York fine arts photographer Amy Bassin and writer Mark Blickley work together on text based art collaborations and videos. Their text based art collaboration, ‘Dream Streams’, was featured as an art installation at the 5th Annual NYC Poetry Festival Their video, ‘Speaking In Bootongue,’ was selected for the London Experimental Film Festival. They published a text based art chapbook,’Weathered Reports: Trump Surrogate Quotes From the Underground'(Moria Books, Chicago). Bassin is co-founder of the international artists cooperative, Urban Dialogues. Blickley is a proud member of the Dramatists Guild and PEN American Center. Their text based art book, ‘Dream Streams, will be published in 2019 by Clare Songbird Publishing House. 

art – mikhail s.k.

Artist’s Statement:

e t h o s

As I grow older, I begin to understand that core mechanics of all things – from business, to politics, religion, even interpersonal relationships – all boil down to psychology, and the strange nature of the mind. Human consciousness is a bizarre and fascinating place. Fragile as it is, it can be a powerful force. It creates and imposes meaning from nothing but conjured-up thoughts, and distorts our perception of the world and ourselves. I believe, these ‘distortions’ produced by the mind are reflections of its own state – a subconscious cry. I redirect my own curiosity via something between glitch art, and surrealism, flirting with themes of the subconscious.

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Mikhail SK is an industrial designer, who has been an illustration artist since childhood. His work often revolves around humanism, and expressed via psychological surrealism. Being a multi-media artist, Mikhail draws a lot of inspiration from the various methods and techniques of his craft, and then translates them into visceral experimentation in his art. As he delved into his studies in architecture and work as a carpenter, his way of thinking gradually shifted to a calculated, pragmatic, approach which although is design-oriented, still seeps into his art. www.msk.design