suppliance of a minute – sam lucero

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suppliance of a minute – sam lucero

when i was heaving in the mineral mirror
i saw you salting at the headstone grime
winking red-brick powder
clapping in the dragon’s blood

but tonight my heart is oozing metal
satin rupturing steel, bleached & fainting
you are motionless as the opaque acheron
bolting me back to my own misery
rooting me in tearful flickers of delight

& i see now how i live bright-black crumpled
in a phoenix pile of wing-shaped ash
for asymmetrical decades facedown, mourning
how the stars were strychnine
& my naive eyes consumed them raw


samantha lucero (sixredseeds)

The next addiction – Bishop Hermes

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The next addiction – Bishop Hermes

Oh that we create addictions
for ourselves and for others
blissful euthanasias we so leisurely strive for
oh create another so that i may
add yet one more habit to my repertoire
we deform to preserve life
as it lackadaisically slips through our hands
and we endeavor not to become statistics
yet most die to be another one
the impatience is killing me
how long shall i wait for my next addiction

[Bishop Hermes is an exceptional poet/musician who came to Sudden Denouement with strong recommendation from Sperantia Zavala. We are excited to have him contributing and feel strongly about his poetic vision and look forward to a fruitful collaboration.]

somewhere between history and reality- Ari Purkayastha

Like a parasite, the chandelier
consumed souvenirs
of molten wax-
that streaked cobwebs across
the Kashmiri carpets,
where once your footprints
spun heritage.

But, the windows levigated,
heaved by shadows
haunting the verandas
with a lunar flute like lilt;
while the doors revetted
the decayed masonry
of your legacy.

Yet you coffin the starlights;
and ween history,
your placebo..

••ari purkayastha fallen alone

Ari Purkayastha is just another wild person with wilder thoughts, who thinks that writing them down might mean that the people around her won’t realize how out of touch with reality she really is, but she tends to write random gibberish in the randomest of places, so most already know. She likes words, and weirdly surreal metaphors, and sad songs, and has a sick sense of humor (depends completely on how you interpret sick). You can catch up with her on twitter at @ryekayas or just check out her blog.

(And now I’m going to pretend that writing about myself in 3rd person didn’t feel weird at all)

bruises are mine

Sam Lucero writes amazing poetry.

samantha lucero

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her eyes were emerald cities in tourmaline

mist spit down from the burning moon

though soot and whisper woke my wolf-child

from her yellow maidens melody

she pooled in fevered mulch and wooden pearls

that he planted with misery and pined out

by laughing at the demon-fruit;

by dining in the diamond’s vein

restlessly into that muddy river’s spine

frothed sticky, milk-white limbs

butter-knifed into the nectar of a princess cut

moonstone, stinging quietly as ruby winds

on brand new wings

and way over the feather-laden fields, far out

where she tangles, soaking in the grave he wept her

the mineral tongue of earth has lapped her

swallowed gems and all

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