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An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.

Issue Three



The First Before The First

A wolf no longer lone;
Blood traces my jaw line
Maybe I shouldn't
Hold my heart in my mouth

Don't ask me;
I'm just the cut, stretched, framed
Graffiti that ignorance can't paint over
Or, as you call it, poetry

Son of a dead beat deity;
Also, the crucifier
My hands are meant for holding
But only the hammer, the spike

Found salted in a cave;
If you keep salivating ink
I will keep lying, saying
No, this isn't heresy

John Maurer is from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He has been previously published in Claudius Speaks, The Bitchin' Kitsch, Thought Catalog, etc.

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