Frighten the Horses

by Heikki Huotari Their ignorance is bliss, their circulation perfect. Climbing ice to nonexistence I attribute as I please. It’s minus one AM, do you know where your limbic system is? One balcony per back-up band, one back-up band per crooner and one crooner per croonee, in n-plus-one dimensions it takes n to tango. It’s about the numbers. It’s about the crowding. You’re so subcutaneous when you have that emotion and so grounded …

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by Salvatore Difalco Schizoid Boy I set selfgrasped me light handall day led meto contemplate friendship.Little light little sad meinstrumentalist artful diverse-fulleffect each employed & roseI said “Word out, we do out It.”And added, “Repaired.”“Then we’ve no hands,” It replied. Silver Lining Buriedskeletal dust. Placed motionlesshelpless, above earth’smute gaze stands a sole guardianof filigreed black cutof lost sleek glance.Units tremble glazedmotionless lipsdepths free-flowfully urn-necked.Circle light flamed, hand-light beamhits clasp grown cold.Breast units …

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by Eleanor Ball Word’s spreading in the family group chats that Aunt Grace might be a lesbian and Uncle Ron’s MS is in remission and ItalianFest isn’t happening anymore. It was like a family reunion where someone else went to all the expense and all you had to do was show up and drink.  [Lisa] Like our funerals! Our funerals are so good. Have you ever been to one of our funerals? …

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by Heikki Huotari Who’s ultraviolet. What’s stationary. Does the skin you’re in best represent you? Is your donkey costume still the riot that you are inside? If you shout out a number is it funny? If the brain is origami-folded then unfolded it’s a pillow case or lunar sail. If slightly better than expected it’s a miracle, if slightly worse it’s a betrayal. Whispering is listened to, as possible as fossils, in a …

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by court When he’s alone, he licks the palm of his hand. He read that it improves immunity toward bacteria, aids the digestive system. Every morning, he feels closer to death. The day after his mother kills herself, he folds into Albert’s lap until he feels invisible, until his body is nothing but a compartment. Aren’t bodies just placeholders, cubby holes, empty hooks to hang a jacket? The thirty-three vertebrae, the heel’s …

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by Lillian G Lippold After Lauren Berlant and Michael Warner’s “Sex in Public” We open on a colorless, colorful expanse. Something like a void perhaps, in the way it hangs onto emptiness and fullness at once. The stars are a long ways away, leaving the space feeling freeingly private. Yet, when one squints, one can spot pupils at their centers, eyelids blinking out light. Thus, this private space is also one watched …

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by Heikki Huotari As one reconstructs a 3D object from 2D cross sections, so 4D from 3. What’s a position if not on a sliding scale? A birthday cake not acted on by any other birthday cake remains at rest or travels in a straight line at a constant speed. If Sleeping Beauty will agree to this then so will Cinderella, if there are more counselors than counselees. In case of tunnel vision …

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by Ratón Moreno On the corner, a house. Dead and black all over—crooked wood, like teeth; wheezing breaths of dying light—laying stagnant amongst rows of healthy houses on a street in Orange, or maybe Los Angeles, or maybe New York. Look: in the bottom left corner the wood was clean—somebody was just there a half-second ago. Look: in the top right window you see a silhouette of a man inserting a flaming …

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