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..:: CONTENTS ::..
   Volume X, Issue I

..:: POETRY ::..


..:: PROSE ::..

..:: ETC ::..
   Contributor's Notes

..:: ARCHIVES ::..
   Volume I, Issue I
   Volume I, Issue II
   Volume II, Issue I
   Volume II, Issue II
   Volume III, Issue I
   Volume III, Issue II
   Volume IV, Issue I
   Volume IV, Issue II
   Volume V, Issue I
   Volume V, Issue II
   Volume VI, Issue I
   Volume VI, Issue II
   Volume VII, Issue I
   Volume VII, Issue II
   Volume VIII, Issue I
   Volume VIII, Issue II
   Volume IX, Issue I
   Volume IX, Issue II

 
Poetry


Under the Science of Séances
Travis and JenMarie Macdonald

 

Charles Dickens licks his whiskers
as the dead rise from their seats. Nothing
a little chloroform can't fix. Follow
that hearse...the chase is on, Charlie!

The dear departed started walking,
getting frisky, fluttering their eyelids,

burning the blue
zombie oil.

Gas from the rift lifting metal
birds and flying half-naked folks
from the land of mists and mediums. Where

the whole universe convulsed,
the angels inhabited cadavers in search
of interdimensional flesh until finally

a serving girl shut the rift
with a single match and left

1869 behind the coroner's shed.

 

 

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