The Satanic Satanist & three others by Michael Prihoda

Issue 2

The Satanic Satanist

people say
lovers in love

[the sun.
[the woods.
[the home.

((do you?))

if i work all day for guns and dogs, will i
let you down?

in the mornings,
everyone is golden,

if only from
the sun.

Source Text: created using song titles from Portugal. The Man’s album The Satanic Satanist


the Scripture
i cope
with the trees
and indentions
of every stone, every sentence.
i see it again:

the ocean
the mansion.

really been another
way out
of these rooms

Source Text: created using song titles from Manchester Orchestra’s album Cope

Bone Machine

the ocean doesn’t
want me,

it just wants
a little rain

because there was only
dirt in the ground

when the earth died

-such a scream-
all stripped down,

that feel of
Jesus gonna be here soon.

i don’t wanna grow
up in the Coliseum

where it’s alway
black wings

and murder
in the red barn

and asking myself
“who are you?”

Source Text: created using song titles from Tom Waits’ album Bone Machine

A Dead Man on my Back: Shine Honesty Revisited

well-behaved women
rarely make history.

i was
the emasculated man

and the city
that swallowed him

so gracefully was fashionable
…and you said it was pretty here

i kept getting asked
how many times do you want to be in love?

i told them love is a shotgun
so tie your monster down:

gun control
means using both hands

Source Text: created using titles from Quiet Company’s album A Dead Man on my Back: Shine Honesty Revisited

Michael Prihoda is a poet and artist living in the Midwest. He is founding editor of After the Pause and his work can be found in various journals in print and around the web. He loves llamas and the moments life makes him smile.

Of Absurdity & one other by Christopher Iacono

Issue 2

Of Absurdity

After asking
“Are you a lesbian?”
Mother shoots daugher

The inanity of humanity

Source text: New York Times review of “Iowa” 4/13/2015

The Universe Is Weeping

The universe is weeping

Screams of pain
Over chain-rattline loops
Inside a dark, cold, place
Alien and hostile

Its blackness reveals
Its many shades

Streams of loneliness
Flow into a new space:
One not empty but filled with itself
Possessing its own weight
Its own gravity
Its own presence

Words become vibrations

Let the vibrations go
Let them be free

Source text: Alan Cummings, “When the Music’s Over,” The Wire, June 2002

Christopher Iacono lives with his wife and son in Massachusetts. Beside writing fiction and poetry, he has written book reviews for Three Percent and the Neglected Books Page. When he is not writing, he copyedits and proofreads marketing materials.

April Wheeler by Azia Dupont

Issue 2

April Wheeler I
Unable to see
the brains without
the virus
threatening everyone
but April Wheeler.
you are alone.

April Wheeler II
She was alone
removing her eyes
a curtain stretched tight
She didn’t want to be touched
she said
anything would have been better.

Source Text: Richard Yates, Revolutionary Road (New York: Vintage, 2008)

Azia DuPont currently resides in Northern Iowa. She founded the online small press, Dirty Chai, in 2012. Her writing has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Dead Flowers: A Rag, Bohemian Pupil Press, Queen Mobs Teahouse, Similar:Peaks, Calliope Magazine, among others. Find her on Twitter @aziadupont