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    WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.

    LITTLE SURFLE GRRRRRL by Helen R. Peterson
    posted August 10, 2010 under Poetry
    Tags:   

    She rises early to scrub her flesh in brimstone

    and ashes, waxes her board to surf the waves

    of undead coming through the gate, their shoulders

    bent at just the right angles. Her skin glows sulfur, (more…)

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    QUARTERS by William D. Tripp
    posted May 20, 2010 under Poetry
    Tags:   

    We move together in mass
    Like preteen girls at a concert

    held at the mall, the day before
    the outbreak Now that music

    with no elevator, is drowned out
    by the masses, whose feet (more…)

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    THE END by Eileen Neary
    posted March 22, 2010 under Poetry
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    Broken urban desert, stale, parched
    Dusted and frosted with collapsing automobiles
    Skeletal juices crunch and ooze underfoot
    All is dead (more…)

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    ZOMBIE HAIKU by Joshua Gage
    posted December 9, 2009 under Poetry
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    calliope whine
    the clown’s greasepaint
    smeared with blood
    (more…)

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    QUARANTINE by J. Michael
    posted July 8, 2008 under Poetry
    Tags: ,   

    She knows the taste of nails,
    a clutch of them in her mouth
    like a dressmaker’s pins.
    The flavor of iron is comforting,
    something she can wield. (more…)

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    STATUES by J. Michael
    posted July 7, 2008 under Poetry
    Tags: ,   

    We first played this game as children
    some three thousand miles south of here,
    clattering out of screen porches
    and down back steps onto cushioning grass.
    Here my thick boots snap the snow like bone.
    Freeze
    , somebody would yell, and we’d halt,
    our traitorous hearts still pounding their drums.
    There is no pulse on the tundra but mine.

    (more…)

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    WHEN THE FIRST HAND CUPPED IN by Kristine Ong Muslim
    posted January 7, 2008 under Poetry
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    Daylight was the first to flicker.
    The air was subsequently thinned;
    we gasped–each breath more
    labored than the one before it. (more…)

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    CAROUSEL by Brian Rosenberger
    posted December 14, 2007 under Poetry
    Tags: , ,   

    Zombies
    He paints them with his gun
    colors of red and bone
    like bursting balloons
    the “Bang” is the same (more…)

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    ZOMBIE FISHING TRIP by Brian Rosenberger
    posted November 20, 2007 under Poetry
    Tags: ,   

    No bites in the morningsave for bugs

    drowning in ocular fluid

    rubbing and rubbing

    out plopped his eye (more…)

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