ABOUT

CONTENTS

EDITORIAL

ARCHIVE

LAGNIAPPE

MAST

SUBMISSIONS

Poem
by Paige Taggart


PRUDE FROG

We charted out these breath patterns on tape recorder.
We ran around kicking and screaming, blue tooth, blue tooth!
Then we swelled really low to the Earth, and impregnated it
with little bomb sockets.
Merely seconds before they were authenticated with a copyright seal.
I kept going around with stickers to preserve my idea, and you, well
you exploded with your own enthusiasm about what happens next.

A citadel you see, and we lifted water, and brought crackers too,
then locked ourselves in the zone.
Immediately, going at it, we became a tent in nature.
You sprayed lithium into the trashcan, and I recycled that shit.
Recycled that shit.
Fog bled through window, our breath fortified in terror.

We didn’t see anyway to charge people for this story.
We just kept drinking. Circled, rectified illusions grew whiskers by
night. That’s when it’s time to go home and shave; trace mustaches
in lawn. Vision falls across protruding landscape, to introduce
a tit. Right in the face of a dictator, who conveniently pats
our wrists and tells us not to worry.