Life in a Washing Machine

Wrapped around your finger, like a towel around an agitator. Lost my glasses in the dishwasher looking for you. The blow-dryer went out with a bang and now my hair has powder burns. The dining room light is out and I can’t see what I am eating. Tastes like sawdust anyway.

belching and smoking
with a purpose…
chimney sweep

The traffic light said GO; smash! The insurance company raised my rates to see if I bleed. All this from a fortune-teller who asked me how I was going to get home. Found my toupee in the lint trap. You never liked it anyway. If only I could borrow enough money to live like a lottery winner, there would be more cheese in the fridge. Our dirty laundry is on the clothesline. When will the cows come home? All I know is if you add detergent, and put quarters in the slot, I’ll spin like a top with bubbles until the laundry mat is closed.

Kama Sutra Blues…
Maytag hiring
for all positions

Richard Grahn

Life in a Washing Machine

Quarantined

What if you could paint your own sky? Would it be a Pollock-inspired painting in primary colours? Define the outer edges. Of course, it’s all-over. Slice a piece out and recombine with other favourites from time to time. Heck, paint it black at noon.

invisible clouds…
the rationing
of sunshine

Shloka Shankar

Quarantined

the I again

Like with Bones – journal for the short verse, The Other Bunny ran an experiment with “I, me, my”-less work some of which have been published over the past weeks and months and there’s still a few in the pipeline.

Now this experiment is over and you’re free again to send works containing “I, me and mine”.



Johannes S. H. Bjerg – editor

the I again