By John Doe
On the news they are saying that rare and smelly rainforest mushrooms are shriveling.

by Caroline Chen

We have run out of bookshelves…

Beraka is a Part of My Consciousness
i just got a weird feeling
(the hollywood-buddhist sort)
that my friend michael beraka
occupies some small part of my own consciousness–
like, is always a hidden factor
in my thinking of things
and making decisions.

Ting ping ping
Are the sounds your teeth make on concrete
Skidding on concrete!
It’s the sound that accompanies your last grimace
The dance is the way your body curves
One two step, join in!
You knock and spread out on the asphalt
Count the beats, pop, bam!
One! Two! Your face is a cracked pot
You smile through pink gums
And the ground around is littered with little teeth
They pitter and pop like dancing feet
Some small sections of jaw
Look like they could reattach and start a song
Then your tongue unfolds like a scroll
And a coin drops to the concrete, …

Fifty miles from anywhere
the table is set with dirty napkins,
smudged wine glasses,
and twisted spoons in the branch-like hands
of men and women who arrived
by different angles and patterns.
Frank, who showed up
on a horse one day; Anna, who’s been
sleeping in Dave’s bed for years.
Dave clears off space on his kitchen table
one night each week, for anyone
who might smell chocolate fondue
from down the road where he is smoking.
Old fertilizer sacks frame the windows
and smell of steak medium rare,
evenings of Mavericks and poker,
the chef’s black cat Ginger
(and the Gingers that came before).
Frank faces the …