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Or maybe he's looking at his old shoes, thin and hollowed out, like himself. He’s been making do with these sneakers for the past five years, regardless of the season, even though the leather shows cracks the size of his shoelaces.

There are online groups where black genre writers from around the world discuss, among many things, the prevalence of black fantasy, science fiction, and horror fiction in popular culture today.

Experience with the Mexican people, while done in Spanish in most cases, was relegated to cab drivers, hotel personnel, and restaurant employees. These were never unpleasant moments, which in itself made the Pontiff self-conscious and a shade uncomfortable.

When famine finds a feast beyond
the depth of fear’s furrowed brow,
I cede and bleed into this font
to slake your thirst that only grows.

In the silence after destruction,
death does not vanish,
just as the river of immortality
doesn't water anybody;
we remain between light and dark.

As soon as the pair left with the angel, Ramli ran to Suleiman’s house screaming for his friend to wake up, that the monger had kidnapped the angel, that they had to run to the shore and save her.

The waitress, a twice-stabbed lady beetle, brought a bottle of Brazilian Zinfandel, made from black-skinned grapes grown on the misty banks of Iguazu Falls and aged in anjica barrels. The assassin bug nodded after sniffing the cork.

If there’s no evidence or memory, did something happen? And I don’t just mean whether a tree falls or not but entire ‘historic’ civilizations. And what is time? Can it stand still, or stand at all? Can space or time exist without each other?

and venture capitalism , a medulla oblongata rhyming 
each mouth and eye to the arrogant grasping of hands , is 
anything but natural . here , the crush of one thing 
onto the other . a totalitarian wind blowing from the east

No - not the goddess of beauty,
Venus from Gillette, 
Venus from Shocking Blue,
Venus flattened into a jingle:
“I’m your Venus, I’m the fire at your desire.”