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 10h
Kara Palais
Velvet echoes in these faded places,
Plastic smiles on porcelain faces.
Whiskey tears in crystal glasses,
Dead-eyed queens and faded masses.
And it’s eerie, but oh, it’s sweet;
My dying dreams feel most complete.
Masking my hurt behind the glamour,
No more dawn and no forever.
Hard to voice, too numb to break,
I'm dancing in circles putting the F in ache…
Este mundo ya está lleno
de víctimas  que entregan
el sacrificio de su vida por una idea,
por nociones abstractas.

Los santos nos rodean con sus muertes,
vidas blancas, ascéticas,
momentos infelices,
sin éxtasis corporales.

Ejemplares por su sufrimiento,
Pero ya no lo quiero.

Busco una utopía dulce en palabras
llena de gente que siente algo,
escribiendo nuevas páginas
de la existencia humana.

No quiero más crucificados,
ni sumisión, ni glorificación.
El misterio duele demasiado.

Echo de menos un mundo equilibrado,
colmado de seres humanos vivientes,
Tengo miedo de los  chivos expiatorios.

¿Es demasiado pedir?
AE
I wrote this reflection two years ago.
In Đà Nẵng my friends cradled me like a child.
We screamed Taylor bridges,
tequila-toasted in bars until the lights blurred.
A single candle in the bathroom
danced warm sighs through open windows,
and all felt calm.

I grew new muscles balancing on a motorcycle,
sometimes gripping Harry’s jacket,
sometimes throwing my weight into the wind.
The city flared neon and gasoline in stuttered traffic,
but along the coast
he drove so fast the vibrations in my chest harmonized.
I pictured my bones becoming butterflies if I let go.

Last year I entered the year of the dragon on a futon,
swayed to sleep by a hundred chanting voices from the temple next door
while Bailey burned incense for her ancestors below.
I did not dream of dragons.
I only learned to breathe fire.

The year of the snake slid in with new bones and old habits.
It hissed that suffering could be scripture
until letters slithered free from the page
and coiled like cold jewelry around my wrist.

That was the shedding.
Salt water peeling old skin away,
songs shouted so loud they drowned the ache,
poems that did not start tragic,
nights when my body finally kept time with the moon.

Then at home the dog’s teeth found my hope.
A terrified mouth rerouted rivers
through my soft parts.
A jewel carved from my nose.
Six punctures blooming across my arms like altars.

In Vietnamese stories the snake waits beneath the water
to claim whoever dares the bank.
I wonder if I was chosen the moment
I opened my mouth in those bars,
when I leaned into the bike’s curve
as if danger could be a love song.

Now I lie awake at hours unnamed,
tracing scars that hiss answers back.
Vietnam hums inside me still,
the candle, the coast, the chorus of friends,
but I cannot tell if they are memories
or if the snake is still awake inside me.

They say snakes shed to grow,
but no one warns you how thin the new skin feels,
how everything burns against it,
how you mistake survival for prophecy.

I touch the scar and wonder
if I am still that girl clinging to the bike,
or if the snake has already swallowed me,
patient, sleepless,
feeding on my own venom.
Little fox,
I've come to confess to you

though I know your church is the chicken coop
and your Christ is appetite.

If there is mist up on the mountain,
it's my spirit wandering.

The rest of me kneels here,
before you in the brambles like an overturned cup.

Alone in my bed, I have wondered
why I hurt my lovers, why they hurt me,

but I think it's because
angels are so similar to layers

especially when a spray of white feathers
in the air is all that's left.

Little fox, here is my spirit
riding wrapped around your slender black feet.

Let's test our hearts and pull a wishbone--
you've got plenty cast aside.

If I win, I'll change my ways and skew to kind.
And if you win?

I'll call him, saying let's try again
knowing what will happen, and how sly my words have been.
2025

based in part on the Russian folk tale of the fox confessor
 15h
nivek
held fast by consequences
the butterfly effect
made choices

free will
a way to go
to make a change

small can be beautiful
full of strength
a shared beginning
Lay that thought to rest,
If it's not personal, it'll never be your best.

They can sense fake,
they no when it's not true.

It's not personal,
if it doesn't cut you.

If it doesn't sting
or make you bleed.

If you're not afraid,
or choked up when you read.

These lines are your life,
your babies,
your soul.

Put out to the world
to rake over the coals.

To poke and ****,
dissect and analyze.

The critics don't care
how much you labored or cried.

In fact
Most will never even acknowledge your work
until after you've died.
It's almost funny how much we labor and struggle
and fear what people may think about what we write.
Maybe the hardest thing to learn as a writer is that you
have to put everything you have into it knowing that
most people will never even care.
But someone will
Someone will relate if it's real,
if it's personal!
And that's who I try to write for.
My city,
A magical place, my new home.
I came here long, long ago,
Without counting days,
But the various years.

There, on that street, stood a small shop,
Called The Last Emperor,
A kingdom of tea leaves
And aromatic coffee beans.

A modest man, the owner,
With a humble, quiet heart.
That’s how I saw him:
A bright face, tired gaze
Marked by years,
Like a lantern of wisdom
In the middle of a rough ocean

Then came the online revolution,
And the emperor laid down
His noble title.
The virtual world
Does not care for poetry.
It prefers short notes,
Recycled images,
Fast-trending tags
Without hours suspended
In pain and deep happiness.

The place is the same,
Only the name has changed.
The same owner still politely asks:
“Would you like it more bitter,
Or perhaps with a note of caramel?”

And I no longer know myself
Whether he means
The taste of coffee,
Maybe he is asking about my life.

Thoughts,
like lost words from the past,
in a Confucian style…

A homeless, middle-aged man
Often visited his friend:
The Last Emperor.
He drank hot tea there,
His radiating aura
As if from another world,
Like a Parisian vagabond.

A brief exchange of courtesy
With the dethronized Emperor,
And then he left walking tall,
Like a lord, into the street
Of a fantastic, strange world.
No one could deny him.
His dignity!

Once, as I was gazing at him,
He turned to me, saying
“Why are you staring at me, Madam?
I’m truly fine here!”

He didn’t know
That I was captivated
By his certainty,
Seeing in him a free man,
Living without fear,
As if each moment
Were eternally closed
In a small bean
Of coffee scent.
 17h
Yuiza Nabin
Trembling. Soft hits as you play with the tension
Open door surrender, I quiver
Question. Are you there?
Lost in forever, unsaid answer

Last supper hued in memory, synecdoche of candles
Hand in hand to fall asleep
Fallback guarantees I called denial
My bed so perfectly arranged

“Hey, it’s kinda cold in here” susceptible flesh, distant bone. Red strings, pink cloth, the stoic blackness all round. All-you-can-eat-buffets won’t give you peace but something to ***** is better than nothing. Ideal collisions, my straight lines and low pressures – Passion ruins all my plans. I throw your cliches out in a bouquet and keep them as a razor. Sentimental. Waiting for something to happen. Smooth flick speechless. Indefinite time and the chores undone. But it’s all so simple?! Walking in circles around the word, I-you relation, relatively. Little by little I believe ourselves in the face of what? ‘Nothing’ is stopping us. So I drop my act, you touch my skin, I call you to sea, you dance in my living water. Evanescence in pearly bloom.
And then – then the meow of a startled cat, mice scurrying to the gutters, all at once the little ants bury themselves alive, life repels life.

I love you to pieces and can’t put them together
my derivative of ‘Fear, ***’ - Magdalena Bay, who you should totally check out btw!
I remember when,
As a child,
My mum would "blow raspberries",
In my face...

She would tell me:
I would laugh
and giggle,
until the craze
meant I couldn’t wiggle
or scream, from paralysis.

I remember when,
As a teen,
I would blow raspberries,
In my cousins’ faces,
As I would babysit them
And play hide-and-chase
Until they came out screamin’

I remember when,
As an adult,
I would blow raspberries,
In my nieces’ faces,
Until they would dream of,
and scream for, wild raspberries.

I remember when...
All of that seemed not so long ago —
Grandma’s kitchen didn’t
have room for me.
There were no warm fuzzies,
honeyed memories, or even
a space at the table.

With her smothering, mothering
of my cousins I was an end of the line,
barely know your name, grandchild.

My arms never reached nor did my lips ask
for affection…Grandma didn’t have any urges
to spoil an apple outside the walls of her orchard.

Times were tough…I didn’t get a choice
to be angry or sad…I slipped into the slot
life made for me, and was taught my first
dandelion lesson of how to bloom in drought.
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