Bad Omen Apt. Pt. II

In the evening you unlock
new apartment with fresh set of keys.
There is no furniture, yet,
so you sit in windowsill
watch bar-bodies sway back and forth
across streets like beatles…

a light sprint
a car
a body like rumpled paper-
not red.

As you turn from the scene,
drop below frame—
Still hear screech of car

still feel body
as a bag
cars still pass
sirens faintly groan.

As you turn from the scene,
blue and red
flashes through giant Victorian windows,

doesn’t fill the gap—
permeation of space

as dimensions crack open.
As you turn from the scene,
implode under suspension of time
as a black layer takes a body

into its elsewhere.


Issue Seven | Winter 2018

Twyckenham Notes

The latest issue of Twyckenham Notes is now available.

Featuring the winner of the
inaugural Joe Bolton Poetry Award; Joseph Goosey.

…Nothing I read for this award brought me back so intensely to my love of the sentence…
?David Dodd Lee, Contest Judge

Also featuring work by James Allen Thomson, Cindy King, Sarah Fay, Adam Schelle, Rachel Mehl, Jason Morphew, and many more…


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Concrete is tangled by,
wrestled into submission from;
what defines a badland?

Begin with purple Apazote tea:

counter revenge of holes who gape,
blue sand as weapon for who mourn,
encase self 
by black candles in a badland.

Place pain of roses
on someone else’s wing-bone—Dis

appear. It could be years.

One day sun will lift itself over,
gather candles, bury them without binding self
to land, replace storm cloud with cinnamon
and nutmeg, braid crown of Flor de Muerte with purslane,
two kinds of parsley: one masculine, other feminine—
both are needed to grasp at balance
over skull crown.

Envidia in Mexican folk medicine
does not simply mean envy.

It means
another person has placed a hechizo negra on you,
curse of bad luck,

venganza for something you did,
for something you didn’t do—

it can be cured without origin.


A bit of poison
builds tolerance;

roll through weeds, pluck petals from bud.

Datura Inoxia,

herbaceous glow

gives strength against
heartache, loneliness—

gives complacency, glazed
smile for centuries.

Muddle green herb into red-lava-

pocked mortar until the bottom
of the mortar glows white—mix into Mezcal

Grief makes us want to swallow it all past the throat.


Think of the doe that used to
wander the woods behind
your house, eyes glinted,
wonder if it was lucky enough
to get out of nimbostratus fog—
Or was that doe your hands wandering every night, finally letting go, rising
like stars on a tree?