the trouble with marbles is the rich kid doesn’t give them back when your kid brother chucks them over

three bags full
yuk, what do they
call this stuff


down stream the call of a bird maybe but stop at nothing while it’s still dark

you had to be


hard up against it with nowhere else to go, there’s just the crunch of gravel

to be

walls would


Samar Ghose


Two Pieces


when we’re done having sex, he asks me to blow his cousin in the adjoining room…

greyhound racing life of a side piece


ice cube tray

two bottles of vodka
four bottles of beer
a few eggs
a bottle of mustard

filling up on emptiness someone’s leftovers

Robin Smith

Two Pieces

3 Pieces by Nicholas Klacsanzky

Subway Window

The best time I had was when I forgot myself. I don’t know why I ever came back.

the subway car window
shows only darkness . . .
and my reflection



I can’t figure out if mysticism is ecstatic or a sham. I go between Sufi dancing and wanting fame. Not everyone can sleep in the sand.

than emptiness:
our first name



I have never been on hard drugs, but it seems like I am. The cacophony of conversations in the cafe melds into my thought process and my mental silence. I thought I was high on meditation this morning, but I guess coffee can cut through inner calm, despite our idealism.

rain or snow?
I remove myself
from myself


Nicholas Klacsanzky



3 Pieces by Nicholas Klacsanzky

3 tiny haibun

through the silence clicks from the central heating ticks from the clock

black against black
in the car park a crow
pecks at the frost


strings and a bow that’s all it takes though maybe a hand would help and a shoulder to cry on

snowman plays Bach
a scarecrow Vivaldi
who cares


all my best work thrown out with the rubbish this sea of troubles

corrugated iron
a crow silhouetted
perched on a wave


Diana Webb

3 tiny haibun

3 miniatures

miniatures: 6

a flush in the hand you are holding still enough to compensate for the death that waits due north of this death

your pulse
scag clouds

miniatures: 16

taking the chance the thrill the not knowing the him the her the me or any of this dank matter held together by the weak forces that will inevitably cause our decay

waiting to be picked up
by the blockchain

miniatures: 30

anyway take my trade tiny cop imposter and mute the bond yet smelted warm to the slob touch of a grasshopper

midnight sun—
grooming the coats
of roadkill


Brendan Slater

3 miniatures