Invited Hoop Chalk Canary Beach Tomb sublime, a preface snorkel pucker [wrench wrecks PuMpKiN storefront ]. Elegant layered hunting squabble, nightmare quack quirk quickening. Docked formulated bAg O’ boneyard root toot-toot scOOp! Badge of comatose monkey pawn , scrubbing pan fried leaning tEnT pole adverb crunch [ lookalike fictional solution dresser ]. Passage without weary altitude smokescreen (jargon) / (football) / (weeds) / / / / /. Linger, a lark on a pedestal handshake briskly succumbed. Tarmac Blossoming Relentless Cursive Mummies sweet puzzle my muzzle locking jaw bird spinach , all night’s variable swinging , tired & heaving whimpered sleeves )eager heavenly, complaining( - - - abandon sickle , humming disobedient cleavers, dramatized lists & vague pubic analysis. [sleep prevails wispy sparks / ponderous wired teeth decay / welts map the veins of falsehoods / , tales venting capitalistic burnings]. cipher mangled destructive paradigms liver breached dynamics spooling wafted elegance: changing skin tagged cherry flavored tattoos loaded down replenished , avoidance caliber spots. Possible Punctuation Atrocities f r e e f , a , i , l , i , n , g sInK sTOPPer : : rushing eclectic trolley. Living kitchen nail gun w/in festivities ,, carriage cr owd ed earthbound raven : : scorching philosophical roundabouts : : pressurized zealots , , , unleashed mongoose brat : sprig of sealion couch Re=told Coil Deviant splash , a swoosh / handsome pLot to ridicule fistfuls of pampered pollutants . Break > faster still < , , sentence withers layer UPON layer , , , , BOZO : : : : : ‘hereafter floating less an empire strutting chaotic weeping’ . May , spring autumnal clocks. Softly spoiling evidence nearest drowning suits drifting, , re=stated , , pulsation Beaver cloud watches making business strangulations Known , reverted , choosing cluster , , revoked Nail file drop ceiling blush, ing. Sightless beholden post-capsized cupboard. Lacked a Heaving Nostril Fan Blade Widening morning trail quiver & WINK fashion bug released the handy screeching puzzle boxes without bodily igloo formation greed simplified chest to drench ratio of looping channel surfing dunce nightingale apt purple cubed lobster pupil sickening trench watch reeling daughter destiny ladder grin slope bot popping seconds beyond rocking prep school martyrdom pipe Joshua Martin is a Philadelphia based writer and filmmaker, who currently works in a library. He is member of C22, an experimental writing collective. He is the author most recently of the books Prismatic Fissures (C22 Press), peeping sardine fumes (RANGER Press) and [Ruptured] >> Schematic << MAZES (Sweat Drenched Press). He has had numerous pieces published in various journals. You can find links to his published work at joshuamartinwriting.blogspot.com
Monthly Archives: March 2024
Poetry from Taylor Dibbert
Those Long Odds As soon as someone Moves out of The marital home, Those long odds Get a lot longer. Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. “In the Arena,” his third full-length poetry collection, is due out in April.
Poetry from Duane Vorhees
STILL STRANGERS: EROS IN EROSION After years of wear, she would sew with those sharp dead beads, new thoughts into the threadbare pattern of memory, and he solder his older, darker, thoughts into place…. … Long ago… they learned to slaughter their eager laughter and tear their deepest tears out of each’s other, they taught themselves to utilize their exquisite words like hamhamhammers and broadswords-- then, their mutual wounds they wound all about their lives like poison ivy. (Each just one more bothersome clone to the other…) But There had been a time , once, before the tiny mutiny, when they were still strangers to anger, when they could lie naked, sun-baked upon the jurassic sands or beside the slow hearth, unearthing new treasures from their together, when, in some safe cafe, their yes -eyes could swallow entire their sweet menus of Venus and for many an hour pour their love from lip to mouth like milk from a pitcher to a glass. But that time passed… Strangely angel-like, two naif waifs blown down, unable to unwind all the ivy accumulation in a rugged wind – they just shrugged, unable to face down the demons of their facetious selves. (This is not simply to imply that they weren’t determined. But, over time, stubborn assiduity becomes undermined, especially when connubial cement lacks reinforcement. So, by fragile grapevines, over tangled ravines, the values they were hanging onto kept changing. They were unable to forge a structure anew or to forget old collapse. Neither the heights of their dear science nor the weight of alerted conscience, and not Keats, and certainly not Yeats, could keep the crevices in their isolate selves from inventing the devices of their together’s undoing.) Beached, they discovered the sea: inequal parts nausea and mystery. MAGNIFYING GLASS You are that lens that focuses that passion that assembles that clearing conflagration. Borders are kept by habit, time, or treaty. When virgin lands are opened to new seeding planters supplant foragers, and old hunters confront lightnings to experience thunder. Our species needs union for generation but it splits to get searchlight approbation. HER NAME IS JENNY AND MANY A MORN HAS SEEN HER FACE :daybreaks are harlots all scarlet and huge with rouge and paste. :some skies all rosy with hosiery (her limbs so prim, so chaste). :some days hemorrhage like courage at our battleplace. :other sunrises are sizes too large – whole yards of lace: silk towns are pretty but cities of silk go wilt and waste. (So like my Jenny: her any is much; her touch, embrace.) (There is no middle. A little with her will work long ways. :brown coffee mornings come pouring right up from cup to taste. :all these sunrisings (dawn-icings) – like thieves, they leave no trace. (So unlike Jenny: so many a morn has worn her face, so many evenings. Her leaving goes dim with flimsy haste.) MONUMENT/MYTH 1. LA FONTAINE MÉDICIS, JARDIN DU LUXEMBOURG You stroke the stonework when you come upon the cyclops and, so, I fountain. 2. ACIS The bent bronze was crouched. Your love urged blood into water and so I fountained. LOVERS PREFER ROMANCE BECAUSE poets seek to explore “la mer’ while disregarding the isthmus and when ‘st-stanzas st-stutter they p-pretend ma-melisma.
Essay from Gulsanam Qurbonova

Knowledge is the fundamental basis for the value and development of humanity. It provides the opportunity to expand one’s understanding of the world through acquiring new information, sharing knowledge, and connecting various fields of study.
Knowledge ensures the personal development of every individual throughout their life journey. People enhance their personal growth by understanding themselves and the world, thereby advancing their social and humanitarian activities. This extends from simple life concepts to addressing complex challenges in different domains.
Knowledge encompasses a wide range of fields, from the realms of spirituality and literature to medicine and engineering. It influences all aspects of humanity, impacting various dimensions and introducing new perspectives.
In the development of nations, knowledge plays a crucial role. The exchange of scientific ideas and fostering international cooperation creates substantial opportunities to strengthen interpersonal relationships.
Moreover, the efficacy of knowledge is evident in the advancement of technology, the progress of medical sciences, and the improvement of living standards. This significantly contributes to enhancing the quality of life and providing opportunities for global progress.
Educational initiatives and efforts to acquire knowledge empower individuals with new information, theories, and insights. Thus, the role of knowledge is pivotal in the personal, social, and economic development of individuals, playing a substantial role in shaping a brighter future for humanity.
QURBONOVA GULSANAM
Poetry from John Edward Culp
+ The man who tries fights his own expectations LOVE has this The bird who flutters first born of its nesting days has wings in anticipation Our Love sings from parents warmth Tune these expectations LOVE has this Fallen, born to fly Own the comfort A dawn has no limits LOVE A fallen catches life's birth A time to sing LOVE has this ♡ ............ by John Edward Culp Friday morning February 16, 2024
Poetry from Maurizio Brancaleoni
Inscribed In Siltstone Ancient the relics of thy chthonic passion Primeval is the amygdala-saurus Of thy unperturbèd ur-intelligence Pristine your solicitous quickest instinct A splendid bolus hardcoded through eons In the original processing system Stupendous corpus in tenebrous locus Coffer’d miscellaneous minutalia Neither impermanence nor transience affect Thy everlasting sentience macadamized Unalterable in unmoving hardness Took up thy abode in the first guts to stay Record uncorrupted of feral forebears Always safe from annihilation to come Maurizio Brancaleoni is a writer and translator. His poems/haiku/short stories/pastiches have appeared in several journals and anthologies. He has a bilingual blog where he posts literary gems, interviews and translations. ‘Inscribed In Siltstone’ is a meditation in sonnet form about fossils and their obscure antiquity.