*** stick #1 says positive
#2 from the dollar stores says negative
but #3 from the grocery said positive
and #4 from the general was inconclusive
the #5 from ER was intrusive
#6 from the gas station didn't work
#7 from the immediate care center hurt
so the clinic tells me they don't know for sure
and ultrasounds aren't yet insured
I guess I can wait
If it isn't too late
I feel my belly
guess I'll see when I show
But here comes the blood
it just never will grow

“Haaa,” I sighed, releasing these stale tensions.
“I know it’s not so fair to be upset,”
But talks of ultrasounds and interventions,
Tinge everything that’s right with mild regret.

I sometimes ache for life as told by family photo albums,
And could-be love, as written in that diary,
Since everything once bright eventually succumbs
To  inevitable joy-expiry.

I, like any normal human
keep a list of future names
I started it when I was young
then it was Landon and Ashlynn
kids I knew from school
written in gel glitter pen
in bright pink hues

my list is sorted alphabetically
genders separated as well
it’s followed me from Lisa Frank diaries
to pdfs files
sometimes I add to it often
other times I leave it alone

my list is heavily masculine
I'm not quite sure why
I like boys named Max and Marlon
I like Oskar and Gale too
I have a thing for Old English names
like Arthur and Holden
just to name a few
my boyfriend prefers Ash or Astrid
I like those as well
but, my favorite name is Olin
with one or two L's

I discovered this name on a lost blanket
draped over a fence post by the bay
I'd call him Ollie for fun
Ollie Ollie Oxen free! We’d play
he'd have red hair and freckles
I’d knit him many things
I'd sing him to sleep at night
I'd bake him lots of treats
when he cries I'd hold him tight
whisper that everything is alright

tests continue to be ordered
blood, ultrasounds, and more
results are coming forward
I refuse to see the score
It’s the very thing I’m dreading
I worry that it’s true
seems this list is fruitless
seems I am too

I almost slit my pulmonary artery
and I almost tasted bleak ** drops.
But I escaped the morticioner's needle
I refuse to have my eyes sewn closed
and my lips clasped tight.
Freedom only comes by the light of ultrasounds and x rays.
I can see now
better than before.
And it's all thanks to the gravediggers
who replaced the phlamalderhide
with breastmilk.

After Tarfia Faizullah’s Hidden Registers

She winces at taboo, the same way
she looks at empty ultrasounds.

The ache

inside the hollowed curve of her
womb, she imagines carrying color

to fill

translucent dreams. Her hand paints
spells onto her stomach, she wants

to believe again. That split
a girl finds between her legs,

the wonder

it first captured, she wants newborn pink
on her cheeks and unmoving lips.

The pout her ******* makes,
rises in swells under the moon,

to feel

that luminous glow. She holds
out, the palms of her hands,

for alms. Comets ricochet into her,
until her breath slows to sleep. She is still,

the woman

inside her is quiet, laying in wait.
They dream of seeds and sunrises.


A. T. Bockholdt

They loosed the moorings from Cala Cogone prematurely, when the tide seemed to be lifting over the separate lumps in the dews of the hailstorms, and on the head of the Cyclops distancing itself from its corporeal organism. On a lavish and romantic day, they went to Genoa, to continue with their travel logistics to Piacenza. During the displacement Etréstles was contemptuous in the prow under the Shemesh that seemed to be a fearsome specimen, before an embroidered intestinal being stirred in his own dream, perhaps more longed for than a dual itinerary. While they slept, at the helm Etréstles argued ringing dressed in his black cyclamen tunic, the comrades were also sleeping with their rhapsodic physiognomic dreams, coloring mutinous gestural jaspers, on some faded signs that were deteriorating.

A chimera of Etréstles: “His off-center memory of him ..., was still in Izzana, the capers rumbed through the pathetic clouds over the gray tulles, and the layers of the sky tried to stop being a reign emeritus for a prince without a crown. The paradisiacal layer "kyklámino stémma", was glimpsed melted in the scattered limestone Nuraxis, turning into sticky aeroliths agglutinated in the deployment of the Conjuration, laying the rye species in the jaws, and on the head of Vernarth himself. As they continued with their abstract journey, they remained to parade with the legal aid in his own mirage. He tells her that: "I see them beyond from where their ceremonies collide, they cross eroding the vanished reason of their itinerancy." They get up and take the ship's moorings and attach them to the neck. Then they all cooperate to walk along the edge of a tracontero's sooty ship, moving them all barefoot…, waking up at once! Vernarth, try to wake them up, shake them off, but they don't wake up. And when he tried to evade him from sleep, he saw that he had the ropes on his neck, along with two Unicorns who were escorting him and looking at the infinity of the uni-****** between them tied to infinity itself, supporting that Genoa was already coming in front of its antlers. The others began to wake up and ate reclined, almost without any desire to rasp the cover full of self-sliding and unctuous linen, which allowed them to pass each one their own aperitif from Apollo's head, surrounding them in their cohorts inclusively, being semi dissipated and rolling down the hatch cover. Etréstles transferred the dream to Vernarth, once he went to his bedroom to rest before they touched the roadstead. At the foot of the homonymous promontory, 36 km from Genoa; Portofino could be seen, close to some spiral planks that floated in their hydro form, with Apollo's eyes narrowed and circumscribed in the radius of his orbital process, with submerged herrings that frolicked from Apollo's zygomatic, and in the regional natural garden of Portofino. They found different entrance gates through San Rocco, Portofino Vetta, and Nozaregoino, entering with the agaves on the way with different levels of accessibility and auriferous perspective escape. The path traveled from northwest to southwest on the same promontory that was hidden, communing with all beauty the Mediterranean vegetation, with its beautiful pine forests, and bluish scrubs in the waters of the Mediterranean, filling them with itching lungs, and especially in the offshoots of the Kardiá , silencing the peaceful companions by the suggestive Natural adonis in the indigo abyssal eyes.

Vernarth wraps himself in two linen cloaks and a spárgana for Etréstles, then intervenes, eclipsing each of the Unicorns from his uni-******. They frank him with their antlers on their pectoral, loving him with the subtle hint of attachment that is born from a primal genesis. His gesture softened the expectation that crowned the Empire of his cohort, with the impetus of Arbela, and in the semi-precious Onyx Crowns in chalcedony ..., lightening the gavels of the semi-precious sleep that awakened them before reaching the shores of Genoa. The land in Genoa, all descend in separate fractions and say goodbye, distantly gesturing their signs and making retro gestures with their hands dressed in the mineral encrusted with their rapacity. The ramblings showed on multiplex-rays at the levels of a growling aura, which instigated them to the enclave's inn among the algae that levitated on the ear tags of the ducks, and of some ruminant bluish unicorns, to reinsert themselves into the world of the adjacent daily chores of the cornucopia. The ship luridly hovered in the indigo bay, where it spurred on the Unicorns that were returning back to Sardinia, positioning itself in the bow bulb and in the stern the other to lighten the sails and return to Izzana.

The Scarabaeidae sing: “The Vernarthian tenor of Kaitelka carried them behind her with another Ballenid, this one carried the Demiurge Ezpatkul, with his prominent Augrum or Gold teeth that turned on the backs of all the borer beetles, delimiting towards a dialectic, and paraphrase of a qualitative satirical, especially in the form of Vernarth's sub-mythological genre. The sacredness of the unicorns was the winner of all the dull fantasies, pretending to raise the rainbow over their senses, delegating them remnant spatiality from the growing infinity. To praise the hypothesis of this whale, she sang native arias and cephalization ultrasounds in Genova, where she continued to harmonize the media in her cranial cavity, and in the muzzles that reached the larger fins, transmitting waves of parapsychological regression towards Vernarth.

Then I am eleven
playing Asher,
a cricket-ball-stung
hand, swimming pool
trepidation when
everybody else bounds in
with shouts that rocket
off from the tiles.

Then I am sixteen
and our deputy head,
on the brink of expelling
tears, leaves when we do,
an exercise book graffitied
with wish-you-wells,
faded shirt acrostic
in blue marker.

Then I am eighteen
complimenting a stranger
on their coat (now they
are a poet), stitches
for buses in the place
they demolished,
first attempt at a villanelle
in a room of twenty.

Then I am twenty-six
and a friend starts
to share a life
with a signature, online
ultrasounds, letters from
America, a manuscript,
library-printed, spiral-bound
posted north for a score.

Then I am twenty-nine,
coffee in hand,
reeling off names that haven’t
lined my throat for a decade,
reduced to pixels on a screen,
you doing the same,
wondering where they went,
where we are going.

In the first century of the Lord, the retinue of Wonthelimar entered the pavilion of the space of nine hundred years, where a retrograde period ceases and is disturbed. Here in Sfendoni's Speleothemes, the carbonated waters were purified in a state of total purification of the nine hundred years that it would take them to reach Patmos. But everything happens expeditiously and without any kind of outcome in the states that refer to delaying purification. Only the Logos of God carried them certain and stable in their temporal mechanical intrigue, surpassing what phosphorescence cannot cross in a vacuum without a Gehenna that pursued them as a consequence until the last day, and the graces of the labyrinth of the Logos that were He went in the cascades of gibberish and comfort of the seraphim who escorted them for these 900 years with the help of the Kyrios and their magines.

At that time, the breath of the Vernarth Rhema was imprisoned in the mansion that dominated the child of the Sfendoni cave, united with the Kyrios, designating them as the only guides in the nebulosity with a word of sharpness, who walk through the light wind of eternal night. . Here the Gehenna will try to convince them and lead them to the exceptional creatures everywhere in the temptations assigned to them, amidst storms of blows and resounding ultrasounds that echoed from the idiosyncrasy and from the folds of all those grouped travelings with the cross in their hand, at each intersection bounced the plasma of the ultra-world that he knew well about the Wonthelimar. The spoils of shadows gradually became visible before the victory of those who persist in the vanquished darkness of 900 years amidst bones and ultra-earthly roots, and autonomous laws that were imposed on the just.

Vernarth in this thirty-seven parapsychology, before arriving he felt on Patmos that 900 years had passed, but liberation was becoming superior to the slavery of unnamed eternity, with the Chiroptera specimens that were in charge of fleeting on flights to make them creatures like them. but as semi-human capacities, to meet the only begotten, after overcoming the Logos of the primordial one that resurrected them hyper-oxygenated, where the domain of all extreme and dynamic confusion is found.

Wonthelimar held Marielle's hand tightly when he wanted to escape from the prelude of the surface that made them temporary captives and rather closed the eyes of those who were fatigued by not being able to follow this holocaust. The Kyrios like Adonay asked the Seraphim for help in rescuing the imprisoned confessors, presumed of wisdom, but not of salvific origin. Here the Souls of Helleniká and Trouvere appear in the final section. Everything begins to normalize, and the desire of the powers became more diligent for those who felt renounced and exceeded this quantum time that evaded them by going demartyrizing, but insisted on the last addition of who went back and forth thousands of times to Bethany, and vice versa through these nine hundred years. Until an Alexandrian follower appears singing for the beginning of the end of the 900 years, faithfully following the propaedeutic of a woman who in the future was to be assumed as all those who would be immolated before Patmos arrived.

The nine hundred years were hypnosis and biofeedback in the efforts that Vernarth made, since he became autonomous from his doctor in Piacenza, from here the emotions for him were of belonging in everything and everyone. Therefore his physical body interacted with others and all his immediate orbit,  in such a way that these nine hundred of the darkness of the Speleothemes commanded by his devotee Wonthelimar, went all with bilocation sets, beings from the ultra world, incidents outside the body that he could sovereignly show. Like his noble and loyal hoplites from the site of Arbela, who began to communicate hovering in his brain function. From this point, Wonthelimar received Vernarth's brain waves, as an awareness of not being inert in the matter of his cognition, which was the predominant basis as Hetairoi with his Quantum Monad. Great attention was reflected in everything to receive each one with his spiritual offerings and requests, and with his gaunt officials who were righteous to him. Here the matter was not the basis of everything that exists, they were sovereign energy fields of the Speleothemes with the Kyrios as mediums in the rectitude and the projections of the unknown arteries that would lead to Patmos, after nine hundred years. Only millions of rivers of blood were spilled by the illusion of those who wanted to finally be reborn later in a prime hour 03:00, this dimension that transported them being paranormal, each one did not experience physical or psychological changes, to the point that Vernarth presents himself to them and tells them:

Vernarth: "the reality of this Odyssey called Scientific Rhema, where poetry rests on human beings and frees them from all urgency, clearing the secrets of reality as teleportation metaphysics in those who possessed a physical body, of which it was not tele carried at the macromolecular level. Namely; Bilocation of the material and spiritual energy is what I have added to you like quantum physics since the electron crossed the dark field where you feel the Torah close. They felt they did not know what to follow or find, but the phenomenon made precognition in my substance so that we can now enter the field of the Eclectic Portal from where I came to help them. The paranormal consequence was understood by all physical phenomena that did not alleviate the exemptions of science, rather it was paranormal quantum theology that led them to that nine hundred-year redoubts to conceive ourselves together in this very particular Ultraworld of Wonthelimar and Vlad Strigoi. Here we will be able to find with your intuitive and scientific truth this same laboratory of theological geology, conceptualizing from its regressive number that it would complete the nine hundred years without anything biological that makes them not know from precognition of matter-body. Your parapsychology is ours, we are all connected and we are the new mechanics of the senses, that even in millions of years will it take you where to look for them ...? in those that not all of humanity could reveal "