October 21, 2017

The dead bird, colour of a bruise,
and smaller than an eye
swollen shut,
is king among omens.
Who can blame the ants for feasting?
Let him cast the first crumb.
We once tended the oracles.
Now we rely on a photograph
a fingerprint
a hand we never saw
A man draws a chalk outline
first in his mind
around nothing
then around the body
of another man.
He does this without thinking.
What can I do about the white room I left
behind? What can I do about the great stones
I walk among now? What can I do
but sing.
Even a small cut can sing all day.
There are entire nights
I would take back.
Nostalgia is a thin moon,
into a sky like cold,
unfeeling iron.
I dreamed
you were a drowned man, crown
of phosphorescent, seaweed in your hair,
water in your shoes. I woke up desperate
for air.
In another dream, I was a field
and you combed through me
searching for something
you only thought you had lost.
What have we left at the altar of sorrow?
What blessed thing will we leave tomorrow?

Cecilia Llompart

All Souls’ Night, 1917

October 21, 2017

You heap the logs and try to fill
The little room with words and cheer,
But silent feet are on the hill,
Across the window veiled eyes peer.
The hosts of lovers, young in death,
Go seeking down the world to-night,
Remembering faces, warmth and breath –
And they shall seek till it is light.
Then let the white-flaked logs burn low,
Lest those who drift before the storm
See gladness on our hearth and know
There is no flame can make them warm.

Hortense King Flexner


That was where I learned about Kempinski, the tailor who liked to have real dummies on which to hang his clothes, men and women who hadn’t liked his work and so ended up impaled and being clothes horses until the rotting flesh came away in chunks and stuck to the material. Why did the sick fuck get away with it? He’d been a refugee when war started, and worked at Bletchley on coding. Can’t risk that kind of security being questioned: why wasn’t he picked up? How come he was privy to such secrets when he was a psychotic pervert? Really, who do you think wins wars? Nice guys?

Drew Salzen
Fragmented Fears

Saturday morning secrets

October 21, 2017

To enjoy the foreplay, you must learn to love the thorns…

Must find a way to express this innate fire…

“What is your favourite pastime?” he asked.

“Making men nervous,” she replied.


October 21, 2017

“That’s one Halloween blowjob he’ll never forget!” she said.

haunted house

October 21, 2017

Frank and Katy Matson had no sooner moved to London than they found a haunted house.

Lisa Tuttle
The Spirit Cabinet

(What a lovely opening line for a story, don’t you think, boys & girls?)

my horror and disbelief…

October 21, 2017

Over the next three days, I learned to stay calm, not to betray my horror and disbelief each time Jim’s body washed up in the surf…

Karen Haber
Samba Sentado