Quotable Poe Week Three-Kindra M. Austin

I   Tears go by as years expand from Heaven to horizon; and I scale the mountain ranges risen in consequence of your death. Jesus, or some other guardian breathes for me whilst my lungs delight in respite from high altitudes.   II   In this, the winter of my youth, stillness settles deep into…

Quotable Poe Week Two-Kindra M. Austin

Quotable Poe Week Two “I was never really insane, expect on occasions where my heart was touched.” –A letter to Maria Clemm   Spasms wrack me— I’m so sick, infected— and this pen that I can hardly hold pours this ink.   For words no longer live within me, and my love knows me no…

I Am the Woman – Kindra M. Austin

She is me— the woman your mother warned you about when your childish hands declared they were a man’s and left hers empty to grieve. I am the one who won’t love you through alcoholic bursts of abuse. I won’t chew on belittlement flavored bubblegum and just be happy you acknowledged me. I am not…

A Typical Day in the House of Henry-Kindra M. Austin

Every morning, she’d find Henry in his blue plaid pajamas, sitting at the dining table with a newspaper and half a cup of too-sweet, pale coffee. Good Henry. Since his wife had taken ill, he always made sure to keep quiet while she slept in; and he no longer bothered her for his soft scrambled…

Ice Frozen Miscarriage-Kindra M. Austin

Sometimes I imagine myself not plummeting, but falling slowly, spiraling uncontrolled into the black; the nonentity is dizzying and cold like outer space, unsympathetic. I’m only a miscarriage of wishes and wisdom, ice frozen, looking for a comet to start my heart—ignite some fucking passion.   My brain feels itchy, like heavy wet wool. I’m…

My Death Is a Great Red Pen, Correcting-Kindra M. Austin

What you want, I ain’t got; and goddamn, I have the sinking feeling that it’s happening again, as night is falling down upon me. I submerge, accordingly—   await my death. My death eradicates mistakes I’ve made, and saves. My death is a great red pen, correcting—   according to Vodka, on top of Fibromyalgia,…

Entropy-Christine E. Ray & Kindra M. Austin

(Kindra M. Austin) Every morning, I wake up. I keep waking up. And sometimes I’m angry at my opened eyes, cos sometimes brittle fingernails scratching inside of my skull, they split and rip and bleed and blood leaks and shorts my circuits. Not enough to kill me dead, just enough to kill my will. And…

She Wore Emptiness-Kindra M. Austin

She wore emptiness, and I condemned her mantle, as I had Jehovah-god and all the men possessed by devil’s hands. And I convicted her— Murder of the Self. She wore emptiness, and never learned one goddamned lesson. Sometimes fists make poorly teachers; maybe mine’ve made a difference. Maybe I should’ve beaten her, too. Purple was…