Christopher Collingwood

My world is a string
of proverbs – a chain of
of 1’s and 0’s, an electronic
mosaic offering vision,
a wave of immersion
finding shape beyond the senses;
binary growth becoming
the lattice of a reality, a world in
birth by formula, coexisting
to a biological tangent.

Simulation brought to truth,
symphony by a linear key,
units deciphering meaning,
consciousness declining breath,
accepting a new reality –
a physical absence; an abstract
harmony escaping cells, inspiring an
artificial conversion, intelligence
on the wake of a photon, conceiving
the first digital sunrise.

Descendant of the circuit,
two worlds divide – held in your
palm is a world gaining
sustenance by digits,
knowing serenity of the bit
in continuance; the other world
expands out by the helix,
a mitosis of conception,
cellular boundaries in motion,
engaging existence with the
senses, a chaotic realm – finding
warmth in textures.

Synergy in aspiration,
no map truly separates the
two worlds; a breeze
seducing skin, may find a
path to a virtual cheek,
‘in the reality of a dream no
language is different’ – and in
the embryo of a smile, we find
common ground, emotion pleading
for the prophecy of sentience,
allowing the space
between a 1 and a 0
to become much closer.

CHRISTOPHER COLLINGWOOD was born and raised in Sydney, Australia. He completed university in Sydney and graduated with a degree in business studies. Chris has devoted his spare time to writing, with works published in Not One of Us, Liquid Imagination, Andromeda Spaceways, Abyss & Apex, Hexagon, Shoreline of Infinity, and the recent Smoke in the Stars anthology, among other dimensionally unstable places

Alexey Deyneko

The orchestra is ready
To start its performance
Some dog is unhappy 
And barks.

It’s hard to stay steady
Disturbed by those slogans 
And some punctuation 
And Marx.

What’s in this capital K 
In Das Kapital?
Who’s in the Capitol?
How do I swap it all?
Is it engraved in some stone?

From dog’s point of view
Music needs no notation.
It causes frustration.
What’s wrong with this nation?
Hell out of tune this trombone!

And chorus (long waiting)
Now enters fortissimo:

Comma is all you need!
Comma is guaranteed!
Go ask your momma –
You must do the comma!
Let’s do the comma!
C’mon!

Comma is nice and sweet!
Comma is there indeed!
Even in coma
You must do the comma!
Let’s do the comma!
C’mon!

Bravo! Bravissimo!
Comma fortissimo!
Bark me some comma!
C’mon!

ALEXEY DEYNEKO was born in Moscow and has been writing poetry in Russian since he was nine years old. Some of his poems were used as song lyrics by himself and other people. He lives in Sydney, the city that inspires him in a variety of new ways.

Chris Bullard

Writing from the grave is a pleasure. 
Everything is monumental here. 

There was a single word on my lips 
when I expired. Now, novels 

scroll from my corpse. You are 
the central character of my fiction. 

I direct praise to you as a tree 
sends its roots into the soil. 

Transmission is difficult, 
but the purest line is never the line 

that is written. Whatever I hold 
back, that is yours, too.

CHRIS BULLARD is a retired judge who lives in Philadelphia, PA. Grey Book Press published Continued, a poetry chapbook, in 2020 and Moonstone Press published Going Peaceably to the Obsidian Knife, a chapbook of environmentally themed poetry in 2021. Main Street Rag released his poetry chapbook, Florida Man, this year.