English

svenska | about

by Zola Gorgon

Purgatorial Fires

Dear Reader,
do You seem to find Yourself in a sort of eternal purgatory?

Do You sometimes come across people and phenomena You suspect of being cloaked demons sent out on some mysterious mission to challenge You, or perhaps agents carrying messages You don’t know how to decode?

Does Your every day life seem more and more allegorical?

by Fredrika Flinta

Bug Story

I heard this story from a girl who lived in Hawaii, where there were so many insects that no insect spray, fire or agent could secure the room where she slept. 

by Beate Björkengren

Cradle

to be born into the grave
not willing, nor able
the lilacs growing eventually in spring

by Ian Memgard

Nebuchadnezzar

Nebuchadnezzar was full of grief, and the form of his visage was suddenly changed against Meshach: therefore he spake and said “I’m crying, little brother. They are in a meeting waiting for me. While I’m mourning they get together to plot against me.

by Zola Gorgon

The Horse Girl

“I’m born from a terrible sin,” she said. “People aren’t supposed to see me.”

What terrible sin? I decided not to ask.

by Ian Memgard

The Knight

There is a way – as a fag
but perhaps it was lost, a long time ago

by Ian Memgard

Gates of Darkness

On my way home, I thought about when Verlaine went to confess, and the priest said, “at least you’ve never had sex with an animal, right?”

by Fredrika Flinta

Dinner Time

is gray, restless, birthing evil