Donald Dunbar and Andrew Lundwall

Freak Angelic

his criminal phonics and his secret feelings
shut down someone so far away

he’s simply the correct religious experience
in the attic in the voice-over

the grind of psychedelics in the starting gun
realign some ghost

one ghost hyperactive
one cutup tunnel of love


i heard
he’s dead
in place of me

meaning the actual televised starlight accidentally
the blond-haired starlight brilliantly miniature

from his honest heart
all week


never met a
ape i didn’t like

Gardenia Trust School

sacred ghosts brilliantly wine-warm

the possibility of awe does not define itself

an x-rated expressive inflated child

nightscene: wisconsin: fury all black-out

in the dictionary some movie about corpses and sex

you know why?

as the hounds are unleashed dorothea

yes. tits are tits, roulette wheels

roulette wheels turning

as he surrender as he kneaded it the television dyed his hands television
quiet voodoo movie patrons satisfied infatuation beauties
distracted wax people biters

religious symptoms


will remember the scene as much better-shot

the susceptible eyes


Lucky Charming

voicemail evidence, swallow
the multivitamin golly her lip-
red whine no sixteen-corner
cathedral no phonecall simply
clockwork cat moan simple

fraudulent lighting wisdom nurse bcuz
pink value complex low liar the categories
in her harpoon bcuz that's how she rolls

angry orgasm my chronology
places me squarely
dorothea etc.
in in

the five leaves left are all like there's no moon

vine-white shipwreck packetboat
charm, & fame,
nobody gives a fuck about the
chinese dream
cameras the
cruelty tokes her own nipple
i swell like an impulse
4 vodka illusions am
a masochist must be

Shush Signals

skin of her swim, crude legends for which

did not receive her so


she's not a muscle
no no not a bouquet

her personally love-letters
cloud of headlines session
of comprehending
all notes

my television hope back wait,
there was no innocence
when silently mind sucker-fucks
agency / ability / dorothea (mood
lighting) you is not uncomfortable
otherwise endlessly impossible etc.
glowing like anemone &
glowing like anemone
is the motioning nightly
the lord is the is
the reel-to-reel jesus christ
(she sd)


don’t criminal and tattoo
is plenty gallows
she's with her embers
smirked the news, fuck the mistake
my dead-meadow impressed as me
           (bow scenery)
who’s no surface that the the

it was but hard hectic innumerable

pursuits hoped me into that frontier

bones real to me is dealt

Mercy Signals

all notes don’t burn
her song voice which was embers etc.
the headlines smirked

my dead-meadow television
which cradles all gallows
comprehending innocence

caged in mood lighting
the noosed body somersaulting

I write to her acute we've come and I no closer
objectively love-letters

jesus christ
the way is endlessly up

Donald Dunbar lives in Portland, Oregon, and keeps a blog called spare the.

Andrew Lundwall is the managing editor of Scantily Clad Press. Recent poems have appeared in La Petite Zine, RealPoetik, L4: The Journal of the New American Epigram (!), Robot Melon, Tight, & Action, Yes. He has released three chapbooks, klang, honorable mention, and funtime, a collaboration with Adam Fieled.

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