It’s been awhile since I’ve walked this dusty road, but I remember it well. That spot there, where the sun never quite reaches, is where I found myself on my knees praying to a god I didn’t believe in. Bodies upon bottles upon razor blades gleaming with self-harm and a cocaine glow fill the ditches … Continue reading The Long Road Home
I wound a broken guitar string around my left thumb and index finger until I could no longer feel either of them because I was high and I liked the shades of red and white that pulsed down my hand until he unwound the string and placed my palm in his own, and then I … Continue reading Holt Street
Three of my favourite women, two of them in this interview, all three powerhouses in the writing/publishing world.
Interview with Kindra M. Austin one of the two co-founders of Indie Blu(e) publishing by SMITTEN editor, Candice Daquin.
Candice: Indie Blu(e) is a young, edgy and finger to the pulse type of micro publishing gig. What went into its inception? What forces created Indie Blu(e)? What influences?
Kindra: When Christine and I first encountered one another, we recognized straight away that we share a passion for not only writing, but for helping other writers hone their creative voices. I think we first began talking about joining forces to build a publishing company in 2017. In 2018, we realized we already had the bones to build upon with the Indie Blu(e) Network, which we co-founded. The IBN began as a source for readers and writers to discover indie authors, and authors published through small presses.
Our shared vision has always been to represent the unconventional and underappreciated. Knowing what we wanted…
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I fucking love poetry. I love good poetry, exceptional poetry, poetry that sits heavy on my chest and reaches down my throat to pull my own words out of my belly, and thank the goddess, in the era of the Instapoet and art without soul, Indie Blu(e) publishing and Candice Daquin have given us all … Continue reading SMITTEN This Is What Love Looks Like – A Review
You keep fucking looking at me as if I haven't just swallowed your lust, as if the puddles of your pride hadn't slipped from my lips and dribbled down my chin. You keep fucking looking at me as if the taste of you didn't just try to burn a hole through my sternum and pool … Continue reading Looking at me
I think I saw you again in the moonlight tonight, and I swear I could taste the hints of it all: the moment June whispered her goodbye and July roared in on the cusp of thunder, dripping in memories rained down on my door. It’s all just a little bit beautiful, a whole lot lonely, … Continue reading July
Oh how I love her
Turn out the light
No scrutiny tonight.
Her kind voice washing over radio waves
Through pipes behind patchwork facades
Bring the murmur of comfort … baby
Far from judgement
Where you’re safe from that brand of cursive
And the tangle of lamenting souls
Each seeking to imprint their own
Moment of impotent glory.
Move over, it’s getting too crowded
We may be losing our sight
But heels sound their static curiosity
Whether we look or not.
The music of what is not prescribed
Can be a tonic …
Free to sling and fling, ferris of hurt
That word they used … did not describe you
And you must be strong if, you’re still standing
If it didn’t tear you apart.
Delusion survives the harshest words
But not when there’s no one left to pick you up.
You learn to survive even,
As everything turns and diminishes
Lean on the mercury…
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Hey, you! The mom of that twelve-year-old boy who leers like some fifty-year-old drunken uncle. Start teaching him that no means no. Right Fucking Now. You should have been teaching him this already. Teach him that consent is as real as the shoes on his feet and the laces he ties in double-knots. Teach him … Continue reading On Consent – In a Seventh Grade Classroom
Source: Indie Reviews
You said you loved me but I should be quiet because sometimes love rides on electric pulses carried to secret places where it burns hot and rings like church bells on Sunday morning. You wash your sheets and the guilt from your cock, you wipe the walls and your mouth and drop a clean kiss … Continue reading I Wrote It All Down