april 2nd
by Douglas Slayton
the seasons change their song
as they change with each other
it was a theme played on my palm
running lengthwise with your fingers
held tightly
bowed slightly
Classical
by Alexis Faulkner
Good old fashioned essex station and I was sure a
Ghost hand touched my head
Then I figured out it was my own hand
And the psychology of me splitting into a ghost to
Feel my own head sent spinning me into the train
Gutters
Not all of them are easy thoughts
Unfolding the middle east through fireworks
Because here in the west the explosions are
Miniature
Ghost once again
Bombs are ghosts and spawn ghosts
A fine mist, really
Eastern corner of westerners mind
Good old fashioned essex station reveals its wealth
To me on this Novemberest of days
M train wretched waiter-maker
But thought blessing it sends onto me this day
Champagne for the cheers and vanity thoughts
Have but a ghost waiting for me
Alexis Faulkner is Unicorn Editor-in-Chief of Uncanny Valley Magazine.
Doug Slayton is Professor Editor-in-Chief of Uncanny Valley Magazine.
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