Today’s choice

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Hassan Melehy

 

 

 

Doctrinal Shuffle

In the nakedness of civic planning
a few secular aims overwhelm
whatever any god could have deemed
the key components of human subsistence—
none of us knew what was
coming next, not being privy to
the lofty paper-pushing that informs such
distilled machinations. But
a sense of brotherhood issued
an imprint of unity and so kept enough of us
content and out of the way. The next
step wasn’t clear but conditions
were ripe—since it didn’t completely
crush anyone the ground was laid
for proceeding into thicknesses none
had the basic skills to sift through,
so we decided to just leave it on its own.

 

Hassan Melehy lived all over the United States before settling in North Carolina in 2004. His poems have appeared in The Hat, nthposition, and Prelude, among other journals. His first collection, A Modest Apocalypse, was published by Eyewear in 2017.

Andie Davies

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Alex Vellis

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Zoe Konstantinou

      End Credits  You sneak into my body between old ladies chanting in the fourties  and a soprano who extolls the spring. As she reaches immeasurable heights you sneak in bolder You’re made of music. You gave away your secret and now it’s too late to...

Francis-Xavier Mukiibi

      Buffer // Birth   face was born from a broken mirror, this line on my left cheek the fracture. when does this body become spirit; untethered upon absence of framework. this morning, it has split further. like a panther on boar rips hide from...

Lou Hill

      Ones And Zeros Of An Endless Monday I’m having a crisis meeting at The Ivy with the Marketing Aficionados you recommended bending an iron bar until everyone stops clapping pull serious faces say they’re gonna open me up see if there’s anything...

Troy Cabida

      For the boy playing with silk scarves at 2:25am here’s something to wear to cover over the head and the ears for those who come up to you with questions that sound like threats here’s something to wear if you’ve ever needed to hide the throbbing...

Julia Webb

      Yearnings StJohns won’t let the crowlight in, only sparrowbeams and antdark. StJohns is over-alive with noise – day and night, it never stops. Owlish stuffs her ears with balled-up toilet paper, buries her head under the sofa cushions. Dadward’s...

Sarah L Dixon

      The Tuesday the world changed for aardvarks I never liked rain. And today it raged. Flooded into the sand that is our bed. It drenched the warm corners where I cuddle with Bert away from daylight. The ants ran from it and I was unable to resist...

Jennie E. Owen

      The Rose Queen Even now, looking at the photos I cannot see myself there, on the edges heels on the curb, with my sister, watching the queens on walking day take a lead behind the mounted police. The brassed bands, the drums the beat and blow of...