midnight

by horace p sternwall

illustrations by pete palomine

what can you rip the lid off, when all the lids have been ripped? what do you with the champagne glass, when all the champagne has been sipped? what do you do with the river, when the last sun has set? what do you tell satan, when he comes to collect on his bet? what can you do for an encore, when the last note is played? where will the last raindrop fall, when there are no more parades? what will st george do to pass the time, when the last dragon is slain? who will swallow the last white pill, when there is no more pain? when the last train leaves the station, who will wave goodbye? not the cat asleep in the corner, or the dog with a tear in his eye not the hamster chewing his piece of wood, oblivious to fate or the cockroach crawling desperately across the empty plate when the last man dies, who will dig his grave? when the master ascends to heaven, who will free his slave? not the maid asleep on the mistress’s bed, when the trumpet sounds or the fox running forever, away from heaven’s hounds it’s midnight in st louis, sunrise in algiers the countess discovers her rubies gone, and wipes away a tear the international jewel thief taps his cigarette on his case in the window on the speeding train - just another pretty face

4 poems by 4 poets

illustrations by palomine studios and penmarq studios

the beast by nick nelson as i was walking down the street a surly beast i chanced to meet he seemed a stranger to civilization and had ideas above his station he fixed me with his insolent eye and asked me, was my life a lie i held his gaze and answered straight that i was but a child of fate this answer quite amused the creature good humour liquefied his features and just as i relaxed my stare he disappeared into the air i continued on my way to work but doubts within my brain did lurk about the origin and provenance of this beast of surly countenance who was he to question me? am i not wild, and bold, and free? my body occupies a cube but i am no philistinic rube my brain is free to float at will i need to make a living, but still immortal fire within me burns i only need to wait my turn a gothic tale by regina osgood stapledon you can't have a cat without a mouse you can't have a story without an old dark house or an old dark house without rain and thunder if you wish to provoke a sense of wonder you have to have a pretty maid no matter when the tale is laid in centuries past she would be demure but today she must have lots of spunk, that’s for sure and a hero with a handsome face who knows his proper place and obeys the maiden’s commands and is play-dough in her hands but before he falls under her spell he has raised or been through hell and been a rebel in his fashion until struck by the lightning of true passion a dark-eyed femme fatale might be a foil for our gal or she might have a best female friend who will be there for her until the terrifying end and you know a good story can’t be without a feisty old grandma or aunt who provides a running commentary whether the tale turns humorous or scary when the rain and thunder have passed and the truth revealed at last and the heroine has her man then you have done all that you can white people by corinne delmonico some white people go to princeton some of them go to yale all of them go to law school none of them go to jail all of them write novels and are children of movie stars they ski in switzerland on weekends because that's just who they are all white people love elvis and visit graceland once a year he is their true and radiant king and for him they shed a tear all white people have advisors who tell them what to think and maids to comb their long blonde hair and butlers to bring them drinks they drink latte and cappuccino in dainty little sips as they sit in the sun by the swimming pool and wait for the apocalypse last train to perdition by anonymous a ticket to temptation, or a soul to sell the meter never stops clicking in the cab to hell satin smiles in a perfumed fairyland wake up in the morning, in the sleeping car of the damned everything they told you was not a lie they told you were going to die and now you are dying, sure enough because you couldn’t get enough of that evil stuff you didn’t listen to what mama said now your bones are aching and your dreams are dead wouldn’t you like to start over again? it s not an option, in this world of sin you are not a princess, a dragon or an elf you are only your pathetic self you are not a hit, you are a certified flop the downbound train is pulling out, it is not going to stop

the little cheeseburger girl

by nick nelson

illustrated by eddie el greco

once upon a time there was a little orphan girl who made a living by selling cheeseburgers. on sunny days she would set up her grill and table in the old quarter of town behind the old palace and sell her cheeseburgers to passersby. on days when it snowed or rained she would make the burgers in the little hut she lived in down by the docks. she would then put them in a sack and walk through the rainy or snowy streets accosting pedestrians and urging her burgers on them. "warm burgers, good people," she would cry, "tasty burgers for a rainy day!" now it must be said that the little girl's product emphasized price, not quality. she could hardly afford the finest cheeses and as for what the meat in the burgers consisted of - given her proximity to the docks and alleys - well, few people in the old town would have any illusions on that score. like many large and small entrepreneurs in the history of commerce, the little girl emphasized price, price and price. she would not be undersold. the little girl had a particular rival. another girl, slightly older, who also sold burgers, but from a covered stand in a good spot in the old main square. the little girl (our heroine) thought of her rival as "dark eyes" or "black cloak" because she had dark eyes and usually wore a black cloak. dark eyes charged more for her burgers but make a great show of making her burgers with the finest goat cheese and the choicest fresh goat meat. our heroine did not like dark eyes's competition. nor did she much care for what she felt was her superior attitude. dark eyes proclaimed herself, by little statues and pictures in her stall, to be a devotee of the god bing bang. therefore our heroine developed an implacable dislike for the god bing bang and all his followers. things went on in this way until disaster struck - for both girls and for many other small vendors in the old city and the kingdom. the imperial department of health, information and reality issued a decree forbidding the manufacture, importation and sale of burgers, effective immediately. dark eyes disappeared. our heroine never saw her again, but she always suspected that the followers of bing bang were in some way responsible for the new laws. the little girl tried to get by by selling grilled cheese and seaweed sandwiches, but these proved a tough sell, and she barely made enough to keep rags on her skinny carcass. times grew hard, and there were rumblings in the streets that what the kingdom needed was a good war to bring the good times back. our heroine heard these mutterings, but kept her own counsel, in this, as in all else. one rainy day the little girl was walking the streets trying to sell her grilled cheese and seaweed sandwiches - barefoot, because she could no longer afford shoes - when a carriage came along containing her imperial majesty victoria vii. her majesty recognized the little girl, for she had occasionally purchased her cheeseburgers back in happier times. her majesty was not a gourmet, and only ate whenever she felt hungry, so she would often buy something from the nearest vendor whenever she was escaping from the castle and her onerous duties as ruler of half the planet, as she was wont to do. the carriage was stopped, and the empress leaned out of it to purchase one of the little girl's sandwiches, when a sudden gust of rain hit her in the face. "bah!" cried her majesty, drawing back but keeping the door open, "get in, child, before we are both washed away." the little girl jumped into the carriage, and as it sped off, took a sandwich out of her bag and handed it to the empress. the empress took her time eating and digesting the sandwich. she looked out the window the whole time at the deserted rainy streets and did not speak to the little girl, who, of course, did not presume to speak to her. finally she spoke. "that was not half bad," she said. she turned to the little girl. "though not quite what i remember from the last time we met." our heroine started to explain about the ruling of the department but her majesty held up her hand. "yes, yes, i know all about it." she sighed. "it probably was not the wisest move, but i can't keep track of everything these damned bureaucrats do, can i?" "i suppose not," the little girl answered. the carriage continued on in the rain with neither of them speaking. "look here," the empress said at length. "i think you have showed some real spunk in keeping on keeping on under the circumstances. and you seem to know how to keep your mouth shut." the little girl just nodded. "my children and all my nieces and nephews are a bunch of worthless ingrates and airheads. and chatterboxes. here is what i propose to do. i am going to send them all packing. and i will install you in the castle as my successor. when i die, which i trust is not any time soon so you may have to wait a while, you will succeed me as the empress victoria viii. how does that sound?" "better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick," replied the little girl. and so it was agreed, and the following day some servants came to the little girl's hut on the waterfront and escorted her to the castle, and installed her in some apartments which were not too luxurious but which were warm and dry. the years went by. the former cheeseburger girl had nothing to do all day except eat, sleep, occasionally accompany the empress on her rides about town or to the theater, and occasionally listen to her vent about the state of the empire. which was not that often, for even as the empress grew older, she was mostly given to keeping her thoughts to herself. our heroine was often bored, almost to tears, but she remembered her days walking the streets barefoot, and kept her part of the bargain, always being there when the empress wanted her, never plotting against her or taking part in palace intrigues, and keeping her mouth shut. and there was a lot to keep it shut about, for the empire was in decline and inner turmoil. dissent and rebellion were in the air. the former cheeseburger girl felt that most of the blame lay with the followers of bing bang, but as the empress never asked her opinion on the subject, she never offered it. in time, the followers of bing bang gained control of the rival empire on the other side of the ocean. many felt that this new regime did not treat the empire of victoria vii with the proper respect. old and new grievances were aired between the two empires. voices in the palace bureaucracy, and in the popular press, called for war, but the old empress held firm against it. finally, on the verge of dotage, the aged victoria vii died in her sleep. the former cheeseburger girl ascended the imperial throne as victoria viii. with the crown barely settled on her brow, her first action as empress was to declare total war on the rival empire, and on all the followers of bing bang. after centuries of only the most occasional skirmishes, the armies and navies of both sides fell to battle with a will. neither victoria viii, or her counterpart on the other side of the ocean, slackened in their resolve. no quarter was given. no prisoners were taken, or negotiations even attempted. the war fed on itself, consuming cities and subject nations in ravenous gulps. the armies and navies on both sides mutinied and shattered. rebellion and banditry broke out in such areas of the earth as were not completely laid waste. civilization was destroyed. darkness covered the planet. there was no longer an empire for victoria viii to rule. on a particularly dark night, without even taking leave of such servants as remained in the ruined castle, the former cheeseburger girl returned to the docks. she could no longer expect to return to her former occupation. such customers as there might be would be more inclined to catch their own food in the alleys, and there was no cheese or bread to make any kind of burgers or sandwiches, in the chaos of ruin, one thing was in plentiful supply. paper, from the bursting archives of the former imperial offices, civilian and military, blowing through the streets. the erstwhile empress used the paper to fashion flowers which she attempted to sell for a few pennies, or cigarettes, to such few people as braved the darkened streets. to anyone at all, even bandits and deserters who sported the blue colors of bing bang. in this way she went from being a little girl who sold cheeseburgers in the streets, to an old woman who sold paper flowers in the streets. the end

different

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by roy dismas

different folks lead different lives some live in palaces, some live in hives some live in mansions, some in hovels some in holes that they dig with wooden shovels some only breathe a few minutes, and then die others live a hundred years, and that's no lie some ride through the city on the shoulders of the mob others walk the lonely highway, can't even find a job some men are treated by women real nice they crawl all over them like bedbugs or lice other fellows can't even get kissed and never know what they have missed some women find men handsome and faithful rich, well groomed and properly grateful other poor girls are enslaved by mad beasts who will never let go until they are deceased some folks never learn to read from the wisdom of philosophers they are freed some folks never go to a museum there are some pretty pictures there, but they don’t see’em the world is a deck with a trillion cards that you can’t figure out though you try so hard the chips will fall whether or not you may i don’t have anything more to say

the white dog

by major stafford sternwall

last night i had a strange dream, a dream so strange i can hardly begin to describe it. i was walking down a street and then over a bridge and a chap i knew in school passed me by without so much as a glance, and i thought, good heavens, am i going mad - does nobody recognize me, do i no longer exist - and i kept walking across the bridge which seemed to have no end, and i thought, i wish i had had a dog when i as a boy, and then do you know, the strangest thing happened, a big white dog came bounding toward me, the friendliest fellow you ever saw, and i thought, at last, at last i have a true friend, and then i woke up - and i realized i was out of cigarettes. and the tobacconist would not open for another two hours at least. how i wished i could go back to sleep and meet my friend the white dog again. but it was no use. once awake, i can never get back to sleep.

dead man's cliff

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by roy dismas and konrad kraus

some said his name was billy some said his name was biff but they had to pick up the pieces when he drove off dead man's cliff he drove a 57 'vette the coolest car invented yet he came down highway 101 as the sun began to set the boys thought he was a stuckup clown the girls desired him for a mate he drove through town like a conqueror he drove through town like fate the girls rushed out of the soda shoppes and gathered around him like flies and melted like cotton candy candles when they looked into his eyes he said he had been to paris and rome and lived in a mansion in l a his dad was the king of hollywood and his mom was the queen of the may he had wealth to toss around like confetti enough money to burn a wet mule he had sat at the feet of wise men but knew there was only one school and that was the school - of love the school of love - and regret for he had had his heart broken by someone he was trying to forget the girls were thrilled with his story they wept to hear his tale they elbowed each other for his attention but his love was not for sale the stars stood still in the heavens as billy made his pick he settled on shirley stevens the others drifted away - heartsick they had to watch as shirley so rich, so blonde, so blasé had the corvette's door opened by billy and watch as they sped away of all the girls who were shattered peggy smith took it the worst when the race for billy's heart began she was sure she would come in first she slunk home to the little cabin where she lived with her drunken dad she had never been so late before this time he was really mad he told her she was a harlot and had blackened his good name and told her to hit the highway when the next daybreak came peggy lay in the darkness hoping that she would die when she head a tap on the window in the sweet bye and bye there was no time for romantic words there was no time for palaver it was peggy's desperate prayer come true - it was billy come to save her! his blue eyes blazed in the darkness his spine it stood up stiff "i have come to save you, my darling but my name isn't billy - it's biff there is no time to explain my deception you will have to trust me, i fear but wait for me in the moonlight i will be back for you , my dear but first i have to clear my name there is one thing i have to do just wait for me, my darling, and to you i will be true" he vanished into the darkness lit by a single star a star like peggy's wildest dream so near, and yet so far the f b i was on biff's trail for a bank job up in spokane so far he had eluded them in the night and wind and rain peggy waited by the window until the sunset glowed her teardrops fell like silver jewels alas, biff never showed no one ever knew for sure if his name was billy or biff they had to pick up the pieces when he drove off dead man's cliff