December 2011
25 posts
I WAS ONLY AWAKE TO SEE THE SECOND PLANE
MICHAELSUN KNAPP
======
I stopped being young the day Momma
didn’t flip my light on to wake me up. The day
-
I woke up on my own
in the dark,
sweating.
-
Summer
had annexed September that year.
-
I walked through silent hallways trying to listen for voices –
if they belonged and especially if they didn’t.
-
Eventually I did hear sounds
from the living room.
-
I never heard
what they said
only the...
THE VOICES OF FALL
EMMETT WHEATFALL
======
The voices of fall fill morning air, calmly
addressing my mind in splendid ways.
-
Falling leaves twist and turn, gently landing
on cold damp earth. Birds in couplets,
-
make their way across the light gray sky
as raindrops tap the roof of my bungalow.
-
Sigh.
-
How naked the trees are becoming. Revealing
is their nakedness. Without inhibition,
-
they find courage shedding...
EFFIGY OF THE GIVING
JOHN SWAIN
======
Parting before autumn
a kingfisher came
like a sorcerer
from the blue fire
of the bay.
I ate the pomegranates
and kept the seeds
growing inside me
to mourn
for the corn’s daughter.
The field bares stones
to raise an effigy
of the giving
like a king beheaded
to cleanse
and cause change
from a thrall
like love in death
I could never feel.
======
John Swain lives in...
3 tags
6 tags
MANGA GIRLS NEED LOVE!
KYLE HEMMINGS
======
1.
What you lost was the girl who sold her story to the ears of city night, cheap despair under wigs, tattooed under Peking pink panties w/ indigenous ruffles. The night was all stereotyped sky of ink & erasure fluid, trace of clouds whispering behind cracked walls, peeling walls, walls that were squeezing your suburban rage-lust. Your past was all blur & lingering on...
November 2011
33 posts
5 tags
BOBBY PINS
ERIK RICE
======
When she finds one, she
need not look through my
rearview mirrors. Pocket change I
take off each night - subway
ticket condom ring chasms, accidents
of personality on my carpet.
She need not call me
a whore.
======
Erik Rice is from the Twin Cities. He has been to nationals once in 2010 (CUPSI), and is the promotional director of the Portland Poetry Slam. He is also the...
THE HEADLINE
JEFFREY GRAESSLEY
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Richard sat on a stone bench reading the front headline story of the Tribune- for the tenth time, while watching his daughter, Lilly. She hung comfortably in her favored position, with her legs wrapped around the metal fiber of the park’s jungle gym. Her long red pigtails hung low to the ground, her face set in a toothy grin that looked to him like the world’s happiest...
HAIKU DEL ALBA
VIRGINIE COLLINE
======
nearly dawn
a black wing brushing
the peaks of her pain
-
poetic justice
she will serve her sentence
if and when aurora comes again
======
Virginie Colline is a French translator living in Paris. Her poems have been published in The Scrambler, Everyday Other Things, Haiku Journal, MOLT, Quantum Poetry Magazine and Kitchen, among others.
ILLUSTRATION: “Mujer...
MIRAGE
R.C. EDRINGTON
======
Waking to the emptiness
of a Jack Daniels bottle & her bra
staring up from the bedroom floor,
I can’t help but feel like
a spent rubber.
-
If I weren’t trapped
in this whiskey paralysis
I’d go to her picture of me
collecting dust like gray hair
on her bedroom nightstand.
-
How many layers of photographs
are tucked in the frame behind mine?
-
I’ve...
STRANGERS IN PEORIA
DONAL MAHONEY
======
I met a proper woman in a proper pub on a Monday in Peoria. It was noon, time for lunch, and we were sitting stool to stool over very large burgers at a long mahogany bar. It curved in and out as if windswept and featured high stools with padded seats and backrests, all in a rich faux maroon that complemented the authentic mahogany. The waiter had put us at the bar together,...
THANKFUL HAIKU
L.R. DALBY
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I love you guys tons, Seriously, so much love. Holy shit, thank you.
======
Real talk.
BATCHING IT, IN A SENSE
ASHLEY LACKSTROM
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Aqueous pleasantries smattering one’s brow
But the lips are parched, parted,
A wicked artifice amongst the act of desertion
Lungs crackling
Similarly to that of crumpled, waxen paper
One endeavors to voice communal desire,
Only for naught
How is it that one should feel exultant
Of what has already left?
The apple in my throat
Is pressing salt through one’s...
Written? Kitten! →
Dear writers, This is a little tool I found that will help you karate chop writer’s block. Every 100 words (you can set the number) that you type will bring you….you guessed it….a new picture of an adorable kitten! Juvenile and wonderful. Sure helped me. ♥, L.R. Dalby Founder P.S. Use this tool to write a poem/story for PIPE DREAM’s December lineup!
Attention artists and writers,
PIPE DREAM magazine is gearing up for its next month of daily gems.
Let’s make December a month to remember! Send over your pieces, and share this with your friends as well so they might too. The more, the merrier. Submit your art, prose (flash fiction is in high demand right now), and poetry by clicking the “submissions” link at the lower left. Sincerely, L.R. Dalby Founder
INSIDE OUT
DENISE SIRCHIE
======
======
22”H x 14”W x 9”D
Sanctuaries within us find their protection through meditation, prayer, written word: an individual’s knowledge of oneself. Copper bullet heads stand on alert protecting the sensitive and gentle heart as does the militia crowning the head; the mind’s fortress. Heavy, but creamy smooth shards work as armor, yet camouflage, as the copper dusting...
BEREFT BOULEVARD
LILY MURPHY
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Rose wakes up alone, goes to bed alone and commences the day alone. Rose is finding life tough, especially as a nobody in a somebody town like Los Angeles.
A liquor store across the street proves to be some sort of friend to Rose, but when she awakes each morning with only a rotten hangover to keep her company she comes to realize that the liquor store is not a good...
Darlings, PIPE DREAM call for submissions! Whether a beloved old face or a fresh new one, I want your wit. We are sadly lacking in fiction, at the moment, and I encourage you all to write a short story and send it to me. Variety is the spice of life, dear fellow artistes! To submit to PD, simply click the “submissions” link on the bottom left. Fondly yours, L.R. Dalby Founder
SWALLOWS
THOMAS R. THOMAS
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The swallows come on
our birthday - in small bunches
at first — to scope it out
-
as if they would not be welcome
I sit alone — long for you.
======
Thomas R Thomas was born on his mother’s birthday - March 19, the day the swallows come back to San Juan Capistrano. You can blame her for naming him. He thanks her.
THE END. ALL MY LOVING. SUNDAY MORNING COMING...
CRAIG SCOTT
======
I. THE END
1.
Red & orange flora
suiciding in cold Monday winds.
2.
I forgot to put the razor blades
out for Halloween.
3.
Your breath like abstinence,
your hair in trouble.
4.
Water in the walls
like mendacities.
5.
We watch a sperm whale die on the beach.
We feel nothing.
-
II. ALL MY LOVING
1.
A jar of smiling
heads.
2.
My fingers still smell
of you.
3.
Life is only...
