The Polis Un-Polite: Buffalo and I, Birdman
Great poem!
A hard truth: My culture has made a burger (bürger) of the both of us.
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The 4th Anthology of PWL…
Reanimation:
Take something you stopped working on. Something unfinished. Take a part of it and make it a whole. Take it in a different direction. Take an unimportant detail and make it everything. Take the characters and change the setting. Take the setting and change the circumstance. Or simply finish it.
Find the skeletons in your closet and make them dance again.
Submissions due by the death-knell pealing of the midnight bell on Halloween (Oct. 31 for you un-heathens).
Take something you stopped working on. Something unfinished. Take a part of it and make it a whole. Take it in a different direction. Take an unimportant detail and make it everything. Take the characters and change the setting. Take the setting and change the circumstance. Or simply finish it.
Find the skeletons in your closet and make them dance again.
Submissions due by the death-knell pealing of the midnight bell on Halloween (Oct. 31 for you un-heathens).
Improper Writes July 2016 Newsletter
dr. Florilegium strikes again! Some news, some debuts, some whispers that ANTHOLOGY IS COMING. Or something of the sort.
(Also, can you whisper in caps lock? Hmm…)
Daemon Tales Anthology Publication
Take a read into our Daemon Tales anthology and let your imagination soar!
https://www.yumpu.com/en/embed/view/ICUE8wrPLT9xsgo7
Illustration above by Eline Van Steenkiste
Notes from Summer
By Alexandria Somirs
Shades of sunsets,
Melt into Summer’s sweats.
Pockets full of Summer’s breeze,
Hesitate to lull sweet Spring to ease.
Lightning smiles at midnight’s cloak.
Shines brighter than the evening star.
Thunder last to laugh at the joke,
Hums his tune 5 seconds too far.
Illustration by Anya Pylypchuk
Erhu Guy
By Katelynne Davis
“It hurts my feet less to be here. I think it may be because this was all marsh, once. Used to be part of the ocean, and it’s still there a little bit. I can hear it, feel it singing to me through the streets. I’m lucky in that respect, I guess.”
She was sitting on the bench provided for tired commuters to wait for their appropriate Green Line train. Her shoes stood together, a faithful pair, just underneath. A drum half shrugged its bag and leaned moodly against the sign depicting a strange cepholopidic creature with red, green, orange and blue appendages.
The Change (Cambiarse)
By Sara Rich
Inspired by true events, as reported to AP by Olga R. Rodriguez, January 7, 2013 at 11:50pm ET, from Mexico City.
That first night, Maria took her dog to the park on top the hill. It was a new moon, and the sky to the east was black. To the west, the sun was almost done setting behind a few thick clouds. Maria and Chucho walked up the hill where there was an open field. Families liked to picnic there in the summers, before it got too hot in the afternoons. The young couples liked to come up there late at night and grope each other. That time of night though, the air was cooler and the park was usually empty. Too late for picnics and too early for fooling around.
The Round Bodies
By Jenni Bisset
My job is not what you’d expect. My name is Poppy Danther and I’ve helped fourteen people lose weight. I wouldn’t call myself an amateur in this profession. So how did I get this job and how does it work? Really, you’d have to ask my diaries that.
Cats, They’ll Watch You
By Isaac Sullivan
Cats, They’ll Watch You
and this cat came around pretty often
sometimes I saw it from a distance
and I’m pretty sure likewise for the cat seeing me
in the back garden where I was living
I’d be playing guitar in the sun and it’d hang, thought it was cool I guess
or I’d be smoking a smoke at night and all of the sudden –
I’d look over and see it sitting there watching me
like I’d even have headphones on, totally in my own world
kinda moving around listening to Like a Rolling Stone
the live version on Self Portrait
you know – shaking my head side to side
dancing, not caring that much about the cat
and it’d stealth its way out, again I’d notice it, looking at me
in the end I wouldn’t know what the hell it thought about who I was
I couldn’t stop everything I was doing
I just had to carry on
I just had to go my own way when the time’d come
Illustration by Sofia Nikitaki
A dream steps in
By Alexandria Somirs
A dream steps in,
And breathes right out,
Once inside, the haze spills over,
It pulls me in, like a thunder roll.
I run, I charge
I grab what clothes,
To hold me over.
From the fire that hides just under,
From the ice that soars just over,
From the danger that still sleeps in,
From the day that still lies by.
I grow weary from breathing in,
Stepping in, is a face that smiles,
But it’s a mask that day slips on.
And it’s the night that takes it off.
A dream steps in,
And breaths right out.
Painting by Salvador Dalí
Proper Writes Leuven 