Short, Fast, and Deadly

All the Blotched Battles and Preconceptions Overturned

The parking lot is full, other eager bees in hieroglyphic holding pattern. Oh, the contusion of blooms, polka dot Mylar balloons, the bloody boxes of chocolates! Who first leered into pulse and spurt and built a steeple to those hollowed chambers? Sometimes in inchoate openings, forced zippers, the sprung ribcage of typewriter keys; all the dumb nubs beating out of kilter in aggregate.

by Aholaah Arzah of Port Townsend

Invention

Sad slips in strings from my eyes and coils neatly on the table beneath me. It isn’t strong as silk, but I weave it. Use it to rope you to me. I tint it blue like you like, that August-sky blue. Years later, we laugh at my desperation. "You thought you didn't love me!" I play-cry, buttering our morning toast. Your eyes graze my waist, blue sash knotted and knotted and knotted. "Weird, huh?" you say.

by Katie Seling of Seattle

Relationship Essentials

Please?
No.
Please?
No.
Maybe?
No.
Must.
No.
Love.
Sorry.
Yes.
No.
OK.
No.
Yes?
Yes.
Now?
No.
When?
Soon.
Now?
Maybe.
Now?
Sure.
Oh.
Yes.
Oh!
Yes!
Now!
No!
Yes!
Stop!
Yes!
Wait!
Ugh...
Dammit.
 
by James Valvis of Issaquah

I Hate You

You. You have. You have driven. You have driven away. You have driven away from. You have driven away from me. You have driven away from me on your motorcycle four times. I watch you and then I lie down on the grass and think about things that you say. You say you could never. You say you could never live with me because you would go crazy. I think about what your name sounds like coming out of other girl's mouths.

by Chloe Caldwell of Seattle

Worth Your Weight

Titanium alloy replaced you,
limb by shredded limb.
I drove past the recycling center
and considered.

by Darcy McMurtery of Seattle

Pentacles, Rods & Higher Arcana

After they got her down (lit up, on Crown) from the dolly, Montel frowned. He ran a forefinger across his neck.
 
They cut to black. "LIARS!" slurred Sylvia Brown. "Tapped out, my ass! I'm sick of copping everyone's round!"
 
And later: "Oh, lighten up! I believe the question was whether ghosts look at porn?  No, hon. They don't...Your revenants only masturbate to the living. Pour. "

 
by Dennis Mahagin of Seattle

Her Name on a Grain of Rice

At the restaurant she goes cross-eyed, a bit pissy actually, despite this place being pricey and all I’ve gone through for the occasion.
 
"I can’t see it," she says, pushing fork tines through the maw of rice. 
 
"It’s there, just look harder."
 
She cuts me a look that could kill stuntmen. "Why couldn’t you have just gotten me a ring like everybody else?"
 
I stop mid-swallow. "But I thought you said we were one of a kind?"

 
by Len Kuntz of Snohomish

Todo, Ampersand & Yr Lil' Blow-Up Doll 2

B r e a k f a s t @ Onan's:
Climax rictus; toaster chrome.
My Eggo, lets go.
 
by Dennis Mahagin of Seattle

Hunger Pain

On The Killing Fields tour we count skulls and blood stains. My son yawns, says, "Can we go already? I’m starving."

In the bus we sweat and shudder from the pocked roadway. All the beggars are children, thin as sheets. Pol Pot is long dead but not.

by Len Kuntz of Snohomish

Penultimate Facebook Epitaph

Recklessly as ever, he turned his pockets
to white rabbits. "Spent the last shekel of
your credibility?" they fluttered.  As if
 
it mattered.

by Dennis Mahagin of Seattle

It Doesn't Matter

It doesn't matter who says it,

as long as it's said.

The way the wind says it,

or a waterfall.

by Olivia Dresher of Seattle

Masks

Life is a mask hiding death.

Death is a mask hiding life.

by Olivia Dresher of Seattle