Pere Lachaise

Griffin Elliot

Bury me

In Pere Lachaise

With my sunglasses on

So my grave will read

“He lays as he lived:

Cool and collected.”

And between the tombs

While leaves fall

And flowers wilt

My bones will become

Part of the

Moveable Feast

About the Author

Griffin Elliot is 30 years old. He lives happily in New Jersey with his wife, dog, and cat. Griffin is currently writing his master’s thesis on U.S.-China economic relations for NYU’s GSAS International Relations program. In his spare time, he manages tours for rock bands.

Instagram: @griffinjelliot

Twitter: […]

Pere Lachaise2023-05-11T17:16:32+00:00

lovely morning

Griffin Elliot


    SW     A   BS

Floating through




Black tar roof shingles

Break orderly atop

             CLEAN GROUT RED

                 BRICK HOUSES.










Lovely morning.

By       Griffin


About the Author

Griffin Elliot is 30 years old. He lives happily in New Jersey with his wife, dog, and cat. Griffin is currently writing his master’s thesis on […]

lovely morning2023-05-11T17:16:42+00:00

After a Very Boring Date


This was not worth coming out in the rain.

You tell me about your work as an attorney, defending investment banks and hedge funds.

From whom?

The government.

Oh, right.

I want to break the lip of the wine glass between my teeth just to have something to do.

You soft man, with your voice too hard to hear in this hot bar, and your constant allusions to being too old to have fun:

Have you ever bitten into a rare steak and sucked the juice through your teeth until the meat is dry […]

After a Very Boring Date2023-12-26T20:22:06+00:00

Wild Dogs Know My Name

Donna J. Gelagotis Lee

Feeble dogs are licking my name

in the dirt. They are taking on

personas. I feel a bark rising

in my throat. I sense a pack / pact


mentality. I want to stalk and

circle, cower, and whimper. I want

to chase and pull with my teeth.

I want to lick myself, smell my own


cleanliness, smell others and tell of their

intentions. If I come up to you and nip,

will you kick / kiss me? Will you yell /

yelp? I feel my hairs matted down, my


tail / tale starting to wag. I don’t lag /

lack ambition, […]

Wild Dogs Know My Name2023-12-26T20:21:18+00:00


Aida Bardissi

(iii) عودة

عودة إلى الحب // return to love

i am a passport; a blood orange. i want to sit in your back pocket; an imminent stain;

let’s make up (out) a border & call it a nation — PEEL ME OPEN

ya 7obbi, let the pith of me perfume your skin; Andalusian ancestor;

i want to exist with you in a time before bodies knew flight; knew paper 

knew knew knew how to eat                   […]



Amita Basu

All day I’ve struggled not to remember that day, but my cramp has been building, and I sit clutching my belly. I confront my dinner, seeking the culprit: another thing to eliminate.

My coffee’s decaf. (Decaf is safest after heart surgery, so I’m hoping it’ll help prevent heart surgery.) No dairy. (When I was five, I had diarrhea after a pint of ice-cream: I might be lactose-intolerant.) White bread-and-vegan-mayo sandwiches. (Grandma has high cholesterol.)

Nothing left to eliminate: everything that could hurt me is already gone.

All day I’ve kept […]


Courage Anniversary

Amita Basu

I stroll down the promenade and onto the bridge. This one is closed to automobiles.

Between its dead-gray embankments, the river glows noon-gold. I’ve seen the river at its source: young, leaping motion-mad. Here, near its mouth, matured into inertia, the river drifts.  Over the river, past me this balmy June Sunday, people jog, stroll, power-walk, and bicycle. Dog-walkers discipline the curiosity out of their dogs with smart little leash tugs. Old couples, combining constitutionals with treat-shopping, have finally found all the time in the world.

The breeze river-cooled, […]

Courage Anniversary2023-05-10T14:41:29+00:00

Whereabouts Unknown

Eli Coyle

My face feels like an emotional relief map

forever wet


My pockets are full of handkerchiefs 

that never dry 

My green corduroys lie crumpled 

on the hardwood floor

saved for later     

our bodies wrapped 

in the wax of each other


In the mornings the sky cracks open egg clouds     

raining private rain


cloud hidden

whereabouts unknown     

where I live alone like pith in trees—


mindless like tumbleweed

mindless like sages


Some days I carry on like a responsible hermit […]

Whereabouts Unknown2023-05-10T14:40:29+00:00

run rabbit

Nathaniel Chew

I am saying it:

this poem is about loss

and still

it will read at a slant–

metaphor for:

social distance

death (duh)



not all who wander


the gloaming realization that writing does not happen                          out of time

the trouble with deixis:                fat fingers

W.V. Quine on radical translation: the linguist says gavagai and means rabbit

the subject says gavagai and means first-rabbit-of-the-warm-waxing-moon

or dewlap-yet-undetached-from-rabbit

or rabbit-which-means-plenty-and-draws-teeth-from-afar

or run

and means herself                                                         to escape the subject position

I want to […]

run rabbit2023-05-10T14:40:36+00:00

Order and Chaos – How would we know what light was if darkness didn’t exist?

Order and Chaos – How would we know what light was if darkness didn’t exist?

by Emma Kendall

21.5cm width x 28cm height, biro, pencil, and highlighter pens

About the Artist

I graduated from Textile Design at Bucks New Uni UK with a 1st in 2016. I went straight to London to pursue a career in design, aiming to intern with a big designer fashion brand, and then work my way up from the bottom. Quickly […]

Order and Chaos – How would we know what light was if darkness didn’t exist?2023-05-10T14:41:04+00:00
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