To Live in Books

March 23, 2014Editor Underground

a piece by Kosan Shafaque

To live in books is to 

choose an existence of infinite happiness and limitless emptiness,

recognize that naught is superior to your beloved, papery companions,

accept that real-life people in real-life flesh are now ruined for you,

acknowledge that no place can be grander than the description of it,

believe in the higher wisdom of the spells that spellings create,

and fall prey to worlds that subsist only in dimensions of the metaphysical type.

Soirée sur l’embarcadère française

March 23, 2014Editor Underground

a piece by John Dias

I am a visitor here. I stand alone on the pier watching a young woman. I hear her speaking in the common tongue; I don`t understand her words, but they intertwine with my thoughts. I try to make sense of her foreign, elusive utterances...      

Speak

March 23, 2014Editor Underground

A peice by Sally Vusi

Mine is a problem not uncommon. I feel burdened with the need to speak out but the lack of ability to do so. However, to put it so simply would be a grave understatement. 

stars at dawn

March 23, 2014Editor Underground

A poem by John Dias

  Dear Stella,

You remain like a naive childhood memory:

One night, stars crawled over the beach as I would,

While I tunnelled my feet through the damp sand.

I thought myself immovable in the light breeze.

But my garments became pennants that were

thrown around when the strong winds came.

I was a tearing pinwheel in their current when I first saw

how fast things could change.

Tea Leaves

March 23, 2014Editor Underground

A poem by John Dias

Water wavers in this ceramic cup.

This wishing well that was to be my home

Now holds the tinges of an ashtray.