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issue 3.04   ::   spring 2014
Scary Bush

Our bravest contributors have shared with us some of their more earnest efforts from the misty past. Scary Bush should not be reviewed while in the process of drinking liquids, and the reader assumes all risk.

Also, I thought I'd do some art work

Daniel M. Shapiro

Beaver Girl

Elizabeth Evenson-Dencklau

With your machete cut hair
dyed like the rainbow
bleached like a pair of mom-style jeans.

You adorn yourself
with baby bows and furry hats
while guitar picks hang
around your neck.

Your immaturity glows
like x-mas tree lights
and your toothy smile
annoys me.

Flat as a trencher,
body like a 12 year old--
yet all of these are superficial
and I wouldn't even care,
if it weren't for the fact you have him.


Lauren Gordon

A Conversation

Gayle Towell

What the hell do you want?
Peace and happiness.
Isn't that what everyone wants?
Well surely everyone wants to be happy.
I know some people—some very disturbed people that prefer pain.
But does not that pain give them happiness, however perverted it may seem?
No, it only gives them pain.
Certainly they wouldn't have a preference for pain if it did not give them any pleasure.
Who says pleasure is happiness?
Well I think when one has pleasure, one is happy.
Are you so sure?
It seems to me the two should go together.
Just because.
What are you saying?
Absolutely nothing
They why do you speak?


Kristin LaTour

This Rain

Gregg Murray

This Rain
hath been long
at the teat of my sorrows.

Swearing, cars, and dirty magazines

Rachel Van Blankenship


Lynsey G. (Age 16 or 17ish, maybe? Don't judge me!)

I feel that I am drowning in filth,
But in truth it's pouring from me.
These fragile fingers are all stained black--
But maybe I'll scratch myself free.

Inside their smiling faces,
I delude myself to see
That they are all love-infested
And they're breathing down on me.

The smiles crack their sugar bones
And shatter their beaded heads,
But still they lie me gently down
On the pillows on their beds.

And the dirty words they speak to me,
The rainbow-lies that they have said,
Rip the sky from every eye--
Their lies fall on one half-dead.

I laugh to hear my troubles fly,
And smile to watch the sun,
But when I lie awake at night
I curse .every. .fucking. .one.

And when I close my eyes to them
The obscenity fills my bed,
And their faces burst inside my eyes--
They haven't killed me yet.

Nicole Oquendo

by Mike Shier

magic words
sometimes getting older
irresponsible daredevil

yellow beeswax people

darkest immortality

waking black hole
prescription skylight eyes

chromosome decay
flameless untruth

Mike Shier

by Nicole Oquendo

is fingertips
bound to kill

eventually distance counts

rifles half
my heart

pale cinched measure
chest cracked

candle undulating

open to

and tandem
paranormal decor