Want to dive into monstrous conversations firing missiles across continental divides? Write your opinion! Hybrid flash by Michael Dickel
A hybrid essay-fiction flash set in a mystical garden that doesn’t exist in Jerusalem Recalled but possibly in Jerusalem Imagined.
Afraid & weak, NAZI werewolves bark, bite, howl, yip. If they didn’t run in packs, they’d be nothing, pornography.
Three poems by Hungarian poet Kinga Fabó, translated into English and in Hungarian.
As he wrote Musée des Beaux Arts
Auden danced with Isherwood. He asked about a young man
who had caught their attention long ago in Berlin.
I’ll take your hyper-inflated
phallus, ego-distended balloon,
id-fueled hot-air engine…
Three poems | memory | gary lundy
These three poems play on memory, nostalgia, loss, and longing.
Three Fog Poems by Michael Dickel, David H. Rathbun, & Mike Stone. Enjoy the different views.
Time twists around after scientists think they’ve accelerated a particle faster than light (it was a loose wire…)
An old man remembers when time stood still as a bike tipped too far going around a corner and what it was like to fall out to space.
A surreal poem in a minor key, falling out of the world and into the arms of one who lives in dreams.
This fantastic figuration of f-words features consonance oh such consonance in an experimental play of sound(ing) mean(ing).
This hybrid between non-fiction, found poetry, & experimental-performance poetry connects hunger-stress-climate change and war. It hints at a desire for peace, & harmony.
Three poems set on a farm about faith in the seen and unseen and what may be coming from acts of love. Appears also in The BeZine.
This originally appeared in Fragments of Michael Dickel Sept. 2014. Thank you to G. Jamie Dedes and The BeZine for giving it a new, broader audience almost two years later! Author’s note: Sometimes, our children tell us things that they see or know, and we don’t have faith in […]
A short imagistic poem about respite from death’s pursuit through briefly glimpsed revelation.
Circumstances My eyes shutter closed. Sirens scream because what else could they say? A bomb went off in a bus just up the street from here, down from the ice cream shop, “Whipped Cream.” The kids and I walked out of it about an hour before. No one […]
A tidal wave of poetry, perhaps. Michael Dickel, Contributing Editor to The BeZine While Eliot declares the cruelty of April, April also happens to be National Poetry Month in the United States and Canada. In our online, social media world, it has become an international celebration of poetry […]