Simon Friel
ghosts’ stories

what was the best part of all this.
how was it that we ever even got to be here.
we’ve been together for such a long time now
but for the life of me i fail to remember how it was again that we met.

you wore an oscillating green outfit and i played a flute and sold hamburgers from the back of a caravan whilst you competed in the 27th international hula hoop championships on the Norfolk Broads as fireworks played war games that resounded forever in our ears.

just for fun.

we lived through all of this unawares
without seeing hide nor hair of the other
you worked as an alcoholic check out girl on a duty free stand in Wyoming
i danced a tango with wild unnecessarily violent bald orange men on the White Cliffs of Dover

yet you have forgotten it all.

forsaken i took to calling you peter.

we don’t know each other
our lives have never really been
i fail to exist without you
and quite possibly despise your name.

a zither plays from deep inside a gothic sewer.
the lights all come on to show nothing more than a battered chuck taylor all star shoe,
stranded incongruously on a parquet floor,
that turns out to have been improbably owned by a single named eastern European silent film star.

listless and slightly bemused you stand frozen in a momentarily lost thought
searching for a silence you thought you heard
whose breeze would have explained it all.



Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

The poet took steroids
to increase his stamina.
He took out a loan and
quit his job to dedicate
his life to writing. He
drank a case of energy
drinks, strengthened
his fingers to type the words
and metaphors the world would
fall in love with. When his
poems came back
the poet increased the
dosage of steroids. His head
grew bigger than his dreams. The
loan sharks were at his doorstep.
When he was down and out,
the steroids all out of his
system, he wrote less and



Ed Baker

towards exact

bend with

Korean Spring Orchid

some flower !

I’d say


chance (or choice)

things are risky

abrupt hangup



David Blaine
Supply and Demand

Knew a guy once,

his wife hadn’t made him a meal in months

he came home late one night
and she winged an ashtray at him

left him bleeding from one eye

said he’d been eating
in another woman’s kitchen

or going to a restaurant
and paying for it

I don’t know if he did or didn’t

but what did she think?
that he’d just stand there and starve?

the thing is
all he wanted
was some of his wife’s home cookin’

guess I just don’t understand
how some people think.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: