It's happened again: after much thought we have decided that the world is ready for another all-poetry issue of 5_trope.
To that end, we bring you our 19th instalment: a festival of verse, a bonanza of the belles-lettres. And can you think of a better way to spend a summer afternoon?
We didn't think so. We give you:
THE "Face without a glass between " ISSUE
We were at the circus and it happened.
you, there, with the broken mouth?
afterbirth of the mechanized
Muscles ached, tame mountebanks
braking, same contusions spread
just as the contest / is set / to begin / embrace / of fire
Now it may be that we arguments
Stoppage of time [procession] conscience
Fine card board
provides a violent kind
Their solid asses riding each innuendo before the music comes.
The heart is a glass dog with a fire in its throat.
Whose voice under threat
Saw ‘master of tempest and fire’
And parted in the summer lightning
No, I lie. I don’t have a face to give.
making involuntary to feel that incredibly
as though sending stars which drop back
like the surface of dead snails
compassion instructs the hand
weighted by seed
to hold over brass
I do not burke myself with grassy matriarchies