the singularity is near
it is a grave error the sky makes
a statement regarding lunacy
has a nice ring to it
has a nice afternoon to it
a nice afternoon [smoke] is all i ever wanted
no one pays rent in jail
no one laughs in a funny farm
swans swim
the firewater inert
it’s over, i know
the real boy knows his body
won’t outlaw forever knows his body
can’t stay pink enough with the lightning!
cities are lightning ghosts are lightning crayons are lightning
i am riffraff between jobs
there is only ever money

Click on each poem to continue to the next.

This issue features 10 pages.