“Hypnagogue” by F.J. Bergmann
The moons of twenty-eight yesterdaysare strung across silent twilight,a pearl necklace on the plump blue throat of a cyanotic stillborn prepared for burial. Under the phasing …
The Metaworker Literary Magazine
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The moons of twenty-eight yesterdaysare strung across silent twilight,a pearl necklace on the plump blue throat of a cyanotic stillborn prepared for burial. Under the phasing …
the night has not stolen the taste and shape of my grass-drowned flesh. after all, your croaks already drink the air from my lungs until …
It’s a blue-lit Danish summer night; the calendar is nearing summer solstice; birds are singing at the ungodly hour of 3 AM. Pt. 1 blue lightblue …
I stood and watched you sleeping, hadstood there watching for nearly five minutes inthe shadow of the hallway for nearly five minutes of circustime before I …
night falls like a brick. urgent tongue of wind stuck to the back of my neck, hair wrapped around my throat. fist of keys in …
Two a.m., well into her night shift at the NICU, was never a good time to receive a call on her cell. “He’s gone,” Jason’s …
A fang of lightning crashesa branch into the wind-clawed loch. Thunder drives eels to the bottom. Water flashes downa mountain rising through the skin of …
A heaviness paws at the groundsupporting the birch-wood tablewithout sound, left in the lurchwith this godforsaken mourning shroud. He lives so little, his face can …
sky shocked nightterrific lashesturning bright the nails in the coffin of the bluetrembling each one of us appointedlike idle children choosing teamsour regaliaonly ordinary hats …
InsectsPerfected in that specific environmentIn thousands of nights & darksCrashing into that bulbLight impacts of ferocious attacksCongratulated admiredEach character with its own specialtyA monolith of …
On questioning circumstance;One must accept that it is often mere collision.That it is neither the (un)holy they, nor a waxwork trinity, at fault for the …
i.other things live easy, you knowI suppose I, too, live easy in some ways.a domination of oceans gatheringa braying of old bones, dust and then …
Hidden under sheets of ice invisible as dreams in glass comes smoldering behind, my foe who shoulders fire and steel aside, rides elevators high and …
The aspirations of man are simpler— a plate of fruit, a bottle of wine and my wife about to cook a chef’s dinner from disparate …
Another stormy night in their neighborhood a warning came for twisters, hail and fire no one said anything about ghosts in the dark. Eerie hours …
The darkness should be the first clue, like it was not just a memory but an encounter, both in past and present: of the future. …
The small pink tube is pressed into the palm of my right hand. I am flicking the lid with my thumb, finding satisfaction in the …
I have been raised to fear my footfalls in the dark to be a walking skirt is to sacrifice safety, sway like an open gate …
As the dusk creeps through the summit the once luscious sun dips below the rocky mounts And flocks of birds soar away weaving intricate patterns …
Late night insomnia in la ciudad that never sleeps is a gift. I slip between the dusk, waltzing weaving between hum of streetlamp. Twirling in …
Every night I’ve lain awake with baited breath. Shadows flash across the ceiling as cars pass by the window. There is a woman out there, …
She wanders through the streets past midnight. They assume it’s too dangerous for her. It isn’t because anyone who would harm her is asleep. She, …