I yawn and my eyesslowly kill the lightlike a doll I shut down this body is likea sleeping bagone size fits all when it falls asleepI wander for hoursin a different world sometimes a dogis chasing mebut mostly I fall with my legscaught in somethingand then I’m down stretching myselfto fit insideagain Buy issue 9 today. Lucent Dreaming is an
There has been a heatwave for days. The dog lies with its nosein the air conditioner’s face.The blinds are shut against the blazefingering the windowpanes. But no need to worry,we’ll be fine, as long asthe power stays on,and the groceries are delivered. (Although, the site is now a spinning ball, and I don’t have a number to call.) The water
Amidst the black granite laden with salvers of boiled white rice, spiced okra, and seasoned mint chutney, he reiterates, “Right, Neha? Right?”and for the third time this week, I withhold the acid and concur, “Yes, daddy. I heard you the first time.” A glower simmers at the back of my throat as my mother shoots me a hardened look, “He’s
Abandoned as a child, Marcos Rodríguez Pantoja survivedalone in the mountains of Southern Spain for 15 years They trap voices in a box. In the beginning,I smash one to release the singing.Where are the small people?They laugh, but that is not an answer. They show a silver glassfrom which a stranger’s face stares back.Laugh more when I say: Who? I
One of my eyes is very near-sighted.On days when I am numb,I have considered popping it outand boiling it. I could remove it, straight from the boilingWater, with my own fingers.As my own flesh, what harm could it do? I would take off the now prawn-like tail,and peel it like a tangerine. The jelly inside would melt in my mouth,and
A tang of magic lingersstill around this deep, clear poolcleft into sea cave’s base-rock,for those who seek its power. Dry grasses sway far aboveon sandy summer headland,clinging to crumbling cliff’s edgewhere crickets sing, unaware. The traveller feels the breathof white horses, ruffled througha tangle of mermaid’s hairseaweed, washed up on the shore. Street-smart, he knows the secretsof water, how nature’s
A bodybelly-upfloats –pale yellow slickgilt edged againstblack waters limbs bobfan out unfolda birthday suitstretched naked somewherebetweensadnessand disgust unsprungit ticklesedges ofbeforeand after a waveof windcurlsdreamingignores it rufflespastan infinityof hedgesthe slimy thingtoo silly to botherwith itslack of elegancean ironic princeto your pirouettes Buy issue 9 today. Lucent Dreaming is an independent creative writing magazine publishing beautiful, imaginative and surreal short stories, poetry
mother’s albumdrove me to the past:running on the Rukuba hills,sweet potatoes & fresh fruits,click-clacks of pots & tasty steam,shopping at the Terminus market inbetween the stalls of noisy traders &the sculpture of a woman with breastsdangling sideways & a child strappedon her back, faded always into space.i hoped to touch her but we left in thebloodbath of pines & tomatoes
Dearest,Our meetings may be fleeting,But each moment’s worth the pain.No amount of aloe soothesThe marks your nails left on my skinUntil tomorrow:Yours, always,Icarus Buy issue 9 today. Lucent Dreaming is an independent creative writing magazine publishing beautiful, imaginative and surreal short stories, poetry and artwork from emerging authors and artists worldwide. Subscribe to Lucent Dreaming now, support us on Patreon and follow us on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.
recently i’ve been having daydreams of pete davidson.this is not unordinary. they come to me like woodlicecrawling out of piles of damp leaves onto the knees of school children. my daydreams are not jabberwocky’s caning cans of red bull, much simpler, insteadon one hour walks i look at wooden tables leaning against closed pubs, think hmmm,if i happened to run
