The Anti-Literary Magazine
Ashley's 'Last Call' Call
Even the scarred can dream on New Year's Eve
once mere debris - / now sweep the stars,
every time i sigh i can’t help but think i’m getting a little taste of what it's like to die
You are no longer a child.
turning to dust. A sheetless bed.
Dead or Alive
burying the / man / alive.
ELEGY FOR THE HOME I LEFT
Along the Mississippi we listened to jazz,