Monday, March 30, 2020

there alone amongst the faithless. By Jck Hnry

the trees
            are breathing      again
she says
fresh rain
fills culverts
& basins:
streams creeks & rivers
thick & green
reach up
beyond the mist
the clouds
each year
            a delicate dance
reaching above & beyond
            up next & near
            the face of god
there alone
amongst the
a god awaiting
that may allow
            to breathe again -

jck hnry is a neo-modernist, post-apocalyptic writer, living in the hard scrub of a californian desert.  after a 10 year hiatus hnry is back at it.  recent publications include:  Deuce Coupe, Rye Whiskey Review, Razur Cuts, Cajun Mutt, Dissident Voices, Horror Sleaze Trash, Bold Monkey, Red Fez, dope fiend daily and a bunch of other noble zines and journals.  Chapbooks/Books: “Snow in Summer and the Playground is Closed,” “Empty Houses-Kendra Steiner Editions,” “the Downtown Cafe (Erbacce Press),” “With the Patience of Monuments (neoPoesis) ,” “Crunked, (Epic Rites)” and “the Righthand Curve of a Continuous Circle. (Blunt Trauma Press).”  hnry is also editor and publisher of "Heroin Love Songs, V2.0, 7thEd" available now. for more go to

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Swimming By Alex Z. Salinas

So what does he do? He hunkers down. Gets busy. Writes some of the worst verse imaginable—plunges forward. Who gives a shit? Nobody reads anyway. A Chicano poet’s work is never done. Ever. He must never be content. Must never fall out of love with failure. Must swim in obscure lakes until his arms, his lungs, give out. Then he slams into a branch. The tree of life must be nearby. Larry Rios, picture your book on a dusty bookshelf. In a forgotten library. Names of the dead. Voices. Yours among them. Delusions of grandeur—poets’ lifeblood. Drink up. Swallow.

Alex Z. Salinas lives in San Antonio, Texas. He is the author of WARBLES, a full-length poetry collection from Hekate Publishing (2019). His short fiction, poetry and op-eds have appeared in various print and digital publications, including in Under The Bleachers, and he serves as poetry editor for the San Antonio Review. He holds an M.A. in English Literature and Language from St. Mary’s University.

Saturday, March 14, 2020

a procedure by J.J. Campbell

i had an EKG
this morning
for a procedure
i'm supposed
to have

that's the most
action i have
got from a
in years

J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) was raised by wolves yet managed to graduate high school with honors. He's been widely published over the last 25 years, most recently at Red Eft Review, Cajun Mutt Press, Synchronized Chaos, The Beatnik Cowboy and Horror Sleaze Trash. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Attention Whore by Frank Murphy

"Sweetheart it's not that you're a great writer that gets you in every place under the sun."

"It's that men no matter their title are still men just the same."

She paused upon this deep moment of thought.

Looked too me and asked.

"But what about you? You believed in me didn't you?"

"I believed I could get in your pants and also exploit a bunch of horny writers. So yeah I believed in something alright."

"Wow you act like I'm just some talentless whore, you asshole!"

She responded.

I lit a cigarette.

"Sweetheart I would never call you a talentless whore, in fact I consider you a very talented one especially after last night's performance."

"Hey fuck you! Your such a worthless bastard!"

Victoria said as she gathered her clothes in yet another fit.

She stormed out and as she slammed the door, there was the one thing that Frank enjoyed the most in her departure.

Total peace and quiet.

Victoria was a perfect storm, hot tempered and a fine illusion and an occasional escape.

Frank was a prick, but he never tried to portray himself any other way.

Honesty was good and silence was better.
She was gone for the moment but much like herpes she would return.

It was far from love but it wasn't all that bad either.

Sex, Drugs & Poetry wasn't all it was cracked up to be course at times if you ignored the annoying ass husbands and death threats.
It almost seemed like paradise. 

With a occasional dose of the clap.

Is a North Carolina based writer who lives in
Kill Devil Hills on the Outer Banks.
He is also the editor of the Black Shamrock Magazine.

Frank drinks too much and spends his days chasing skirts and cursing his old mutt boozer.

He lives alone and will die alone.
His next book will be published by Syndicate Press.

The Devil Is My Co Editor will be out whenever the hell he finishes it.

Placenta Pills. By Ryan Quinn Flanagan

The annex is the only place on earth
with more dykes than Holland

and for the rest,
it’s healthy baby through 
healthy living,

new mothers even grinding up
the placenta now

into a fine powder
and having it fashioned into 
pill form

something they can take 
to feel closer to that great earth mother
they are always talking about
the one you can’t see
because you are a total asshole 
according to these many fine temples 
of great compassion.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a male gigolo for hire.  Presently residing along the sunny shores of Guantanamo Bay, Cuba where he spends his days drinking discount Tequila and accusing chemtrails of being "sky farts."  His work can be found both in print and online in such joints as: The Rye Whiskey Review, The Dope Fiend Daily, Outlaw Poetry Network, Horror Sleaze Trash, and Under The Bleachers.

Sensitivity Training With Rathnar Kilbane

Recently a chief in my war council approached the mighty Rathnar and informed me.
I was very inconsiderate to his feelings after I had just raped his wife on their wedding night.

This troubled Rathnar greatly.
So Rathnar beheaded this unloyal subject and ate his family after I torched his village to the ground.

True Norse men do not concern themselves with the emotions of women and men clearly under the influence of female sorcery.

I sent him to Odin screaming, this is a great honor.
As I redeemed his soul.

Then got drunk on mead and passed out upon my sister. 

This is the way of the true Viking.

All Hail the Rathnar.


The barbaric opinions of Rathnar Kilbane are not supported by UTB.

Rathnar Kilbane is the mighty Viking warlord of poetry.
His scrolls have been published many places that have all been raided in the middle of the night.

His readings are total bloodbaths and no one has yet to survive one.

He is currently working on his newest scroll.

Proud Humanitarian by Scott Simmons

I love people.

That's why I don't like talking to them.
Or being near them.

But some of them have money.
And $= Beer

See it works out.

Scott Simmons has hid inside many different crawlspaces and he could be in yours so be careful he may bite you if he is caught off guard. If you see a Scott Simmons outside of it's room please call animal control immediately and do not attempt to handle it without any sedatives as it's powerful forearms from masturbating are more dangerous than they may appear. For any other sightings please call 832-802-9430 I swear that is not a wild Scott Simmons on the line pinky promise.

there alone amongst the faithless. By Jck Hnry

the trees             are breathing      again she says fresh rain falls hard fills culverts & basins: streams...