'Flash' writing anthology about chronic pain - submissions welcome!
There is too much light in the air today. My eyelids won’t retreat; they’re the heavy squad, repelling all invaders. My protection from a day too heavy for me, for my chest, my arms. my legs. I can only lie down beneath its weight. Breathing takes will. Push, push the invisible hand up, feel it […]
On Scarborough beach, I played football. This image is one of my new paintings. It is autobiographical and consists of two halves. One half reflects my early life growing up in Neepsend, an industrial area of Sheffield. The other half depicts me, as a child, on the beach with my football. by Paul […]
by Nicole Brown
In Lithuanian, runoti means both “to cut (with a knife)” and “to speak”. Hail: Hagalaz Pain, loss, suffering, hardship, sickness, crisis. Spirit-breaker Faith-Taker Misery-Maker Joy-Stealer Dream-Breaker Shadow-Hound. Thought-Waker Friend-Fooler […]
Today I was issued with hand splints. Carapaced; oddly reassuring, oddly restricting; Even in their disposition. I am that crab. Their bindings have an onomatopoeia: irascible. by Ruth Victoria Chalkley Additional poems hosted on other websites: Tanzkarte NHS; Carrier Pigeon for Science U.K.
i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my […]
It was necessary to lend myself to the memory of a body that could. To separate from the broken figure, the body that would not listen. To not pretend. To forego. To not waste the clock’s signal. To set it straight. To disown magical inclinations. To attach to that which understands. To disavow the indifferent. […]
And what are the chances that I am what this is this as what I am told to be the case and I am the case to be taken on and out of the way fix it so others can breathe and get on with it what are the chances that this is what I […]
that unwanted invasion – now tethered over my back binding my knees burdening my shoulders with the heaviness which is my own being – my own cosmic orb of flames arcing slowly across from dawn until dusk and smoldering on through shadowland. – now anchored still tugging below my ribs pulling inside my left eye […]
I’m poeming this poem from a forest-boreal transition zone anticipating intense public reaction to my poem against the bony mets that XXXX up my posture & infiltrate our nat’l backbone its prostate biopsy analogy lost/inapparent in the sagamore gloam this spine unresponsive to the pre-patent analog that is my poem by Maureen Miller doctorwritermaureenmiller.tumblr.com [This […]