I feel trapped in my old life / Like a hermit crab that won’t abandon its shell
By Gregg G. BrownShe thinks about swans, the woman reading, / and a tall girl with tangled hair...
By Katharyn Howd MachanPitiful humans compelled / by some wrinkled force / to figure who they might be...
By Eric HelmsA poem to remember one of Marxist humanism's most brilliant voices.
By Todd Gitlina small watercolor paints itself on the lowest point of my coffee spoon...
By Nicole BastaI want to tell you natural facts. Sister / Rosetta, full-throated / at Wilbraham Road.
By Sam RossThe body can process and possess the dark
By Joshua Daniel EdwinBeside the other blighted / gods in the waiting room, / pale and creaturely, / I anticipate.
By Sam RossI don’t think much / about the war, / been so busy, you know, / reading and writing, / tasting all these new / kinds of beer.
By Joshua Daniel EdwinI made a Mt. out of milkweed. // I drink virgin Cranberry Redbull / on the rocks.
By Gabriel Kruis© 2014 Blunderbuss Magazine. All rights reserved.