Planarian Unbound

for people who don't know what to do

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Arushi Singh "Stardust"

Arushi Singh “Stardust”

Arushi Singh Stardust And we We’re just stardust My love Try to find our way back To the sky. Arushi Singh has been lurking around for 20 years.

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George Held "Kindergarten"

George Held “Kindergarten”

George Held Kindergarten You led us in a daisy chain around the giant oak outside our kindergarten and back inside distributed warm, souring milk or tinny tomato juice and then cajoled us onto our mats and traipsed among us strewing cardboard flower petals in your guise as The Sandman till we drowsed off on the soft cork floor under your tipsy gaze. George Held has been writing one-sentence poems…

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Bethany Reid "His Neck Slashed"

Bethany Reid “His Neck Slashed”

Bethany Reid His Neck Slashed the murdered man staggered from the bed to the dresser and stood, astonished, where each night for thirty years he had emptied his pockets of coins and keys— staring now into the mirror as his life drained from him, his soul draped like a pair of silk stockings over his wife’s vanity table, after a while, lifting and drifting into the afterlife without him. To learn…

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Jimat Achmadi

Jimat Achmadi End of the year, the radio is still switched on, dust on the door and the window glass. Jimat Achmadi was born in Yogyakarta, writing to unravel himself on a traffic-jam.

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Keith Nunes "Lake as an empty symbol"

Keith Nunes “Lake as an empty symbol”

Keith Nunes Lake as an empty symbol Songs tell of the lake as a subsisting pool of spiritual joy but lately echoes carry far into the hollows of the empty lake and the trout are screaming. Keith Nunes lives beside Lake Rotoma in NZ, gets published and is/was a former newspaper sub-editor, drunk, gambler and self-destructive nut-job.

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Robert Lee Whitmire "I'm Sure"

Robert Lee Whitmire “I’m Sure”

Robert Lee Whitmire I’m Sure moons fly by faster now, propelled by cold white fire, or perhaps that’s just cataracts braiding moon glades in my eyes. Robert Lee Whitmire is a retired journalist and photographer and currently is employed as a grandfather and nascent poet.

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Ben Telicki "About Joining Stage Crew"

Ben Telicki “About Joining Stage Crew”

Ben Telicki About Joining Stage Crew Time has moved quickly and I made the mistake of addressing this far too late. Ben Telicki wrote that.

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Victoria Nordlund "Articulation"

Victoria Nordlund “Articulation”

Victoria Nordlund Articulation The regret of these words not said sits crossed-legged in my throat like a piece of chicken I can’t quite swallow. Victoria Nordlund is a high school English teacher who also writes poetry.  

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Howie Good "Spring 2017"

Howie Good “Spring 2017”

Howie Good Spring 2017 Against the cynical background chatter of invisible birds, terribly thin branches tremble with buds, red sores on the tortured arms of a junkie. Howie Good is the author of The Loser’s Guide to Street Fighting, winner of the 2017 Lorien Prize from Thoughtcrime Press, and Dangerous Acts Starring Unstable Elements, winner of the 2015 Press Americana Prize for Poetry. 

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Victoria Nordlund "Peach"

Victoria Nordlund “Peach”

Victoria Nordlund Peach The skin of each minute peels away baring the hours as I watch the clock grow slowly toward morning and I am still here left with a fleshless finished pit. Victoria Nordlund is a high school English teacher who also writes poetry.  

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Jason Heroux "21st Century Translated by Robert Bly"

Jason Heroux “21st Century Translated by Robert Bly”

Jason Heroux 21st Century Translated by Robert Bly When I look up at the night sky, I am a cricket in the dark grass of heaven, hearing trees carry the wind’s coffin through woods that are no longer there. Jason Heroux lives in a house on a street in a city on Earth, loving every minute of it.  

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Sarah White "If You Need An Idiom To Describe Events Of 2016"

Sarah White “If You Need An Idiom To Describe Events Of 2016”

Sarah White If You Need An Idiom To Describe Events Of 2016 Try I SWALLOWED A RAT while I was making shepherd’s pie, or HE SWALLOWED A RAT while he was working out with weights, or SHE SWALLOWED A RAT while she hung undies on the line, or, while he studied Torah and she, Portuguese THEY SWALLOWED A RAT and she yelled “socorro!” but there was no noise because the claws had compromised her vocal…

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Elizabeth Alford "I Had My Wisdom Teeth Out Last Week"

Elizabeth Alford “I Had My Wisdom Teeth Out Last Week”

Elizabeth Alford I Had My Wisdom Teeth Out Last Week The last thing I remember is saying “This nitrous smells like Froot Loops” once the unnerving mask was anchored to my face, the sweet gas filling my lungs and veins with a rare flirtatious happiness, and how the surgeon—whose frosted stubble hit just below the mountain peaks of his cheek bones—cracked a crescent smile, bent low like a lover…

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Elizabeth Alford "Heaven is My Mother’s Apple Pie"

Elizabeth Alford “Heaven is My Mother’s Apple Pie”

Elizabeth Alford Heaven is My Mother’s Apple Pie Once a year (and only under the best possible circumstances) my mother makes her apple pie, and that first bite—oh! how buttery and crumbly the crust, how spicy the forbidden fruit filling still warm from the oven and swirls of cinnamon, sweet and tang waltzing to flavor on the ballroom floor of my tongue—is almost enough to make me sing praise to…

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Ben Telicki "Dear Olivia"

Ben Telicki “Dear Olivia”

Ben Telicki Dear Olivia Death is a part of life, and outlet shopping depends on my boredom level. Ben Telicki wrote that.

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Steve Klepetar "The Quantum Poet"

Steve Klepetar “The Quantum Poet”

Steve Klepetar The Quantum Poet If a tree falls in the forest and you write a poem about it that gets taken by two journals, does it count as one publication or two? Steve Klepetar believes that the answer to the conundrum his poem describes is “Yes and no.”

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Luigi Coppola "Coasters"

Luigi Coppola “Coasters”

Luigi Coppola Coasters How we fled across a field filled with snow, feet bare, the need to crush the white outweighing the need for socks, shoes, shows more about ourselves than how, once ice, our faces have melted, we use coasters under lukewarm tea or weak, off-white coffee. Luigi Coppola reads poetry, teaches poetry, writes poetry and drinks rum and coke. www.luigicoppolapoetry.blogspot.co.uk  

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