Boredom Never Killed Anyone

No, but it can come close.


The beta fish we had for two years
watched me from his bowl with more
genuine interest than my husband.


The first time I told a man
I loved him I had already imagined
one I might love more.


Love can be like loading and running
the dishwasher, like the humming
at the end, the signal for washed clean.


But I have opened the door with my
eyes closed, just to feel the steam
on my skin.   To feel something burn.



--Joan Prusky Glass

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

EDITOR'S NOTE: Something Old, Something New (aka WE'RE OPEN FOR REVIEW REQUESTS)

Hey, pals!  Due to an incredible influx of acceptances (we're stacked for pubs until AUGUST), we had to temporarily shut our doors.  I am delighted to announce we are again  OPEN FOR SUBMISSIONS !  We've updated our guidelines; please read thoroughly before sending your awesome words/art/whatever.  AND!!!!  I am VERY excited to announce a new branch of the magazine!  For the first time, Punk Monk is open to review requests!  We will be reviewing books, collections, novellas, chapbooks, and microchaps. (Fiction, poetry, non-fiction, art, hybrid, ANYTHING accepted.) Our aim is to publish 1-4 reviews a month.   All reviews will be written by me, C.E. Hoffman .  This has been a long time coming, inspired by my personal frustrations seeking cool alt lit spaces that accept ARCs for review.  Many mags accept pre-written reviews, but won't review works in-house. This creates an unfortunate barrier for authors trying to promote their work....
Read more

If I Had A Son, I Would Teach Him About Evolution

I bled through the crotch of my pants and the Wonder Woman underwear I bought two and a half years ago on sale at Target while eating chocolate chip cookies in my bed. I put my hand between my thighs to wipe away the blood and realized, that God had once again decided to not put the embryo of Jesus Junior in my womb, leaving me free to continue reading blog posts tagged atheism. --Em Ramser
Read more

PUNK PROSE: Flick the Clipper, Write for Ten, Eat Some Doritos, Fall Asleep and Dream of a Nicer Time by Lacey Cohen

  i like to say i’m not a poet and i still don’t think i am but it’s not because i don’t like poetry (which i still mostly don’t) but more likely because i’m afraid my words won’t be as good as they are when i write other things because when you write poetry every single word matters but when you write a story or a letter you’re able to think softer and hide behind a scene or a fake character that you say isn’t yourself but usually it is and you think the reader doesn’t know that so it’s less scary than writing ambiguous poetry i get some of my best ideas when i’m high and i can never write when i’m high because i can’t articulate the idea as well when i’m high but i know it’s still going to be one of my best because i’m high and, sidenote, i hate that people use the word ‘high’ in reference to all drugs because when i say i’m high i only ever mean pot but when i read certain stories there are characters who are also high but they did hard, scary, addictive drugs that i would neve...
Read more