Category Archives: Sound of the Underland

CTRL + ALT + V

One little button and I hear a voice that no longer exists whenever I want and wherever I happen to be. That laugh, the exasperated sigh, the way they said my name. Like they loved me.  It is not memory exactly. It’s more honest than that.

Auto-Cartography

Somewhere in my pre-memory, I think I believed that if I could name them all. Orion, Centaurus, Crux…I would always find my way home. There would always be a way back.

Born of Water.

In the beginning, there is warmth and rhythm. A darkness that cups like hands. Gentle. Forgiving as it moulds the edges of the body. Sound is muted. A vibration without meaning. A low, gentle hum. A comfort. It doesn’t matter that there are no words to press into, no language to define or praise or condemn.

Mango Season

And maybe that’s the part that stayed. Not the tree. Not even the fruit really.  It was never about the mangoes at all.

Maybe it’s a little bit about mangoes though.

Tea?

“Thank you so much for coming.” “Of course.” “It means a lot.” “How are you holding up?” “I’m fi-” “Is that Maggie bloody Jones? I haven’t seen her in donkey’s years. She’s looking old.” “Me neither. She is a bit.” “Good turnout though, dear. Good turnout.” “Yes. He would have appreciated it.” “Yes. He alwaysContinue reading “Tea?”

Guiseppe

Give Pinocchio enough

String –

And he’ll hang himself

Like a real man.

The Underland Review: This Zine is a Lie. Issue 3.

The glitch won.
Normal content has been corrupted.
Issue One of The Underland Review: This Zine is a Lie is now live — 57 pages of poetry, prose, art, and soft monsters from the margins of the algorithm.
Pay what you want. Hold it in your hands. Or vanish into the archive.