Say that I am the cassette tape Whose hair unwound, underwater— Whose hair, you swim through.
By Christopher Soto“Each one of my breasts,” she cried, “is 3lbs / of pure gold / & if you don’t believe me, tough!”
By Katie CondonWe felt dangerous // like cowboys trying to swagger with legs / wrapped up in garbage bags and electrical tape / to keep out the ice-melt. The road
By Hilary Vaughn DobelThrow a ring, win a fish. I have so much to say / about wild animals.
By Talin Tahajianand your mother comes to visit / and she says honey you look so / thin you thin thing / you thin wet thing
By Krystin Gollihueit’s almost too late / I keep thinking but / for what I’m not sure / having woken repeatedly / in the night with / the pitiful coughing
By MRB ChelkoOn the seat behind her an old woman tells the story of her long affair with a man named Vidic. He’s dead now. The man from somewhere else.
By Elizabeth Clark WesselIt was a surprise to discover my body, collapsed like a bridge, / but still beautiful, still wet with snow.
By Catherine PondWinter siphons this cigarette out / an attic window, and heat I don’t pay for follows / almost as an afterthought — sorry.
By Andrew Dally© 2014 Blunderbuss Magazine. All rights reserved.