Soyos Shorts

  FEBRUARY 27, 2023 Share Stirred alive To the pit-pat hum-lax Of the Virgin Mary Slinking toward my body Tucked into the corner Of a used divan Shamelessly She shakes me   From the pretty briars of a deep sleep Containing a beautiful wish   She taps She grates me And I’ve been commissioned To wake Nia, wake! Flops out her pre-crying cock And I get drummed And I fix On the lost life of an insect Smeared over the wall Skid marked And I think of grade three And I think of brown   I rally Show a leg  In a country RSL Where all the people are thick Sauntering about, red Like the’ve pockets full’a rocks Normality is obesity Fatality is normality   Jar of Moccona  Is all I have to work with out here Judgement gulp it Distain sip it But can’t say I hate the son of a bitch In these quarters It’s my only friend   I take a moment  in pardon To recall lovely things I like:   Vivid Spanish tapestries Pastasciutta Sughetto di pomodorino Basilico fres...

  FEBRUARY 20, 2023 Share But vines on the up Writhing fresh Valor, colour Gilding the pickets In clover With bursts of tiny blooms Prettying the smoke And oak   And I went quiet Because I want quiet And marred so healthy And then marred no more   Did they grow overnight? While asleep I healed While asleep I tied   Free from worship And wickedness For the teenage demigods Rotting away in the gun meadows   And I saw clean In valiancy   Heavy   And scintilla   Written by  Nia Di Gennaro

  FEBRUARY 8, 2023 Share “No-Reply” We knew that when he was unresponsive, he was living his best life. x x x “Trident” A client of mine accidentally died during a surfing outing, so the lawyers have started to affectionately refer to her as “Aquawoman.” x x x “Veteran’s Day” His hospice nurse started stealing his pills to help her dying dog.     Written by  Charles J. March III

  JANUARY 13, 2023 Share In 4th grade, Sister Mary Ellen flogged my ass with a wooden ruler in front of the class for shooting a rubber band at the chalkboard. I maintained eye contact with her the whole time, and moaned at every stroke. I’m pretty sure she felt something too. Written by  Alan ten-Hoeve

  JANUARY 10, 2023 Share Free hot coffee free therapy free to  Change your lane or just your tire in the  Middle of the screaming highway Everything counts against you When you’re right on time but When you’re in the wrong place Everything costs an extra limb You can fix your entire body Except your thumbs Those belong to the roadkill Photographers Free lunch and free to choose but Costly to lose your cool in the Middle of the mute parking lot Written by  Michael Zunenshine

  DECEMBER 16, 2022 Share // I used to feel God's presence. It was just steam From the hot water It was just adoration, feigned From land, well tended From the most beautiful garden In all of the world And the earth That breathed In its early belly Which rose Which fell Back and forth Like the stretch and pull Of Cupid's bow Lived by a deity of its own Of swallows nesting in branches tall Of poppies pushed vague By children and dogs, blasé By the diamond sky In the high afternoon And by the moonlight Who tongue kissed each bed With all of its sincerity Steam Artful deception Sleight of hand Had no place   Written by  Nia Di Gennaro

  NOVEMBER 2, 2022 Share Driving through downpours in a work van with shitty pick up, I have to use the momentum from  going down one hill  to make it up the next, and hope and pray  the bald tires don’t  hydroplane  around the sharp curves  or skid on wet leaves. Or that they do. It depends on my mood.   Written by   Alan ten-Hoeve