Volume 2, Issue 2

If dead or alive,

to hear or see might be mad,

for the spirits haunt.

Xavier Winberry


Three poems by Zack Hank


I’m a loosie, babe

A garbage man

I’m a lowly rainy day

And you’re looking out of view

I’m the blues

So play me loud

Blast me through the stereo

Lounging in the slums

Leave me alone,

Don’t give me a glance

I’m a rotten thumb

To grip your pay stub

Bruised and stubby,

Old and Brown

I’m a camel darting

Off the beaten track

I’m a railroad dweller,

Lugging around some baggage

You’re so innocent, baby

You don’t need this.



Mary, the romantic

my captive to be.

The envy I have

for the things you don’t see.

So easy to win,

and quick to forgive.

I’m full of disdain

for the lives we’ll live.

The children we’ll bare,

and cheers to employ,

the family we’ll build

is bound to be destroyed.

This husk that you love

will turn you to rubble.

Abused and alone

you’re destined to crumble.

Mary, the marauder,

the maiden in training.

What nightmares will haunt you

the evenings it’s raining.

My dear, and my other,

my servant to be…

what wishes I give you

to be rid of me.



Ah, should we find oblivion

and dance in its beams

furious rings

and flames in the trees.

Catching eternity

and letting it out,

blowing the smoke

right out of our mouths.

Here lies our lucifer,

our nab at the tail.

He’s in there, weary-eyed

lonely and frail.

Let’s chant and we’ll cheer

we’ll lie on his rocks.

I’ll take out my dagger

and hollow this cross.

Prancing in ceremony,

I’ll throw you back and forth.

Torching in serenade,

draining hell by the pore.