This is the announcement announcing that the submissions call for KILLER WHALE JOURNAL VOL. 2 is now open.
Submit your poems (on any theme, in any form) / essays on poetics / art inspired by orcas to:
Submissions close September 1st.
VOL. 1 can be found here: http://www.scribd.com/doc/221234754/KILLER-WHALE-JOURNAL-VOL-1
arched shoulders and furrowed brow, an indication of
non-surrender to the haunting void, the terrorizing intangibility of
absolute Truth, so antagonistic to a topology of
realness, itself a paradoxical layout of vernacular change
Continue reading A Flaw, A Flake, A Vision, And A Vacuum
It’s all I want. It’s all I want.
a) I want it and
b) We are creatures of habit
Usually get fucking board until a new habit forms
I used to form poison from nothing particularly formidable
Forum for the lack of getting: it Continue reading Ponderation of a Palindrome
The seed of the dream is rooted in fear of the patriarch, manifested by the
Father. The patient recounts the Father as threatening to torture, but never
tangibly harming the dreamer. The death of the brother seems random, absurd.
Most transparent is the dreamer’s thematic inclination towards escape,
symbolized by a number of strange landscapes. Their surfaces appear
malleable: a dream world seemingly infinite
A month past Christmas, we see a flame at the airport,
a beacon distorted by fog and dawn’s steam.
It seems to flare, then hover,
in this misleading sky that no longer tells time.
If it burns downward, is the day passing.
We drive closer, still on the mainland, trapped by gravity,
hoping for a balloon that runs on hot air
to lift us from this gloom.
If there were more beacons,
the island could be a candleholder,
its rough contours a floating menorah.
The ice floes in the channel melt,
the smoke from an extinguished candle.
that the splayed mouth
of the last buttonhole
at the end of your shirt
and this saves you time
Continue reading Denude
rhetoric like pink medicine
oozes weak greetings
she chose this blacktop and name tag
ball point pen vision
he pulls his glasses off, on: “are you at ease yet?”
she pulls at his tie, his shirt silence
the podium grows light flickering
clap slap back his hands later one martini
“it’s just good business” right.
Justin A. Picard
In Alabama I tell you that depth
is the apprehension of depth
& that everyone might just as well touch their phones
three times a minute as not
on the beach or the boardwalk
poolside or not
Continue reading Point Clear
I reach into a moment, through its
silver sheen, flexing around my arm
grasping against the laws, letting me
the night convolving above us
as we walk through the parking lot
aligning the rifts in the asphalt
with the rifts in the sky
Continue reading Rift