– Casey Bossert
I love him. I think I love him. No, I know I love him, because he loves me. He walked me home that first night, and he didn’t have to. He just did. He knew it was the right thing to do. Like when he opens the door for me, or gets an extra dessert for me in the dining hall. He loves me. I love him.
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Tags: Casey Bossert
Posted in Prose
– Lydia Ann Stern
We’re rounding up
our (plastic)
armies—
our wounded soldiers
with their
bionic limbs
to our woven queens
stapling on
their silicon
breasts
and (plastic) noses.
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Tags: Lydia Ann Stern
Posted in Poetry
– Casey Bossert
(Upstage center is a large arch with a black sheet hanging from it, which the audience can’t see behind. This is where the actors go to change costume. Whatever they need should be easily accessible for fast changes.)
GREG: (wearing a graduation robe) Finally! It felt like that
would never be over. I thought twelve years of school
was bad enough, but a four hour ceremony? That’s
ridiculous! (LINDSEY, also in a graduation robe,
shuffles in, holding a camera and crying.)
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Tags: Casey Bossert
Posted in Play
– Paul Harne
A photograph of you and me at the MarylandRenaissance Faire:An artfully-captured-yet-objective-image,a liar.
Two hundred seventy-three thousand, six hundred twelveignorant pixels
depict slate skies and clouds my memory omits.Portrayed is an earth-toned, suede-faced animal thatwe idle upon:An Asian elephant (smaller than the better-loved-variety,African in its origin).
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Posted in Poetry
– Jaleasha Ruth
Following an imaginary line from your nose to your navel.
Pink Floyd heaving breaths of desire.
I know what’s beneath your shirt:
Your heart, longing for me, to long for you,
Even if you feign unawareness.
You yearn for me again
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Posted in Poetry
– Michelle Pease
His arms reach down
and gently caress my skin.
His fingers graze my face
and slowly trace my
jaw, neck, shoulders, and arms.
He pulls me into an embrace,
warm, soothing against my
cool pale skin.
November sun was his name;
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Posted in Poetry
– Dylan Brannen
Kindergarten. I think it’s a German word, but that’s when you get your first taste of it, some people even younger, but it’s safe to say that EVERYONE did this from then until they graduated or gave up.
Straighten up.
Turn your head this way.
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Posted in Prose
– Thomas Delfi
As a babe, I never knew you, and the world was darker for it. Shadows loomed about me like hungry jackals and I hid near the smallest scrap of light I could find. It would be as a young child that I would first see you shyly peeking at me through forest trees, the bright luminescence of your unearthly, child like form drawing me to you like a moth to the flame. Before I can see you in full, you disappear from view, your insecurity getting the better of you. As a young man, I saw you by a lakeside in the snow covered forest, no longer a young child as I, but a young woman with a pale, curved leg, bared naked and beautiful as it reflects off the still, unfrozen water. Yet you still hide from me, my lovely Artemis, disappearing as I come closer to you. It is only as a man that you finally present yourself in full to me, donning a silky white gown that brightens the whole world in the warm, spring air. We dance across the stars, your elegance blinding and binding me to you, making me eternally yours. The seasons pass, the days fly by, and before I know it my body has become old and crooked. You’ve become thin and sharp, but remain elegant as ever as I notice you beginning to fade away into darkness. I ask myself how I can live without you, for you’ve been my eternal partner, furtively glancing at me from between trees and twirling with me among the loving cold of space. But soon my world begins to fade into darkness as well…and the question melts away from my mind.
Tags: Thomas Delfi
Posted in Prose
– Hillary Henson
Jane threw herself onto her bed, data pad clutched in one hand. “Okay, tell me what you think: Male-oriented, oxygen-breathing, non-cybernetically-enhanced female seeks companionship and possible sexual relationship — pending completion of a ten-week psychological compatibility and galactic-viral screening test.”
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Posted in Prose
– Lydia Ann Stern
Yes. Oh. Oh.
You were born from
sweet, fruited wines and
concoctions of hopsandbarley.
Ah. Yes. Yes.
You were conceived from the
faults of latex .
Oh. There! Yes! A h !
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Tags: Lydia Ann Stern
Posted in Poetry