Tag: published

Neptune’s Coquette by Joan McNerney (Lucent Dreaming Issue 4)

My toes throb over hard pebbles. Waters slip over slim ankles. Should I stand shivering or go swim? Lose my footprint? Off I run, falling over myself a mug of salty cider. This wave an insecure bed. Seaweed pillow. Carried by moon to an abyss. The floor of my mansion is not tidy. I shall have sponges for lunch. Ride

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Flotsam by E. A. Fowler (Lucent Dreaming Issue 4)

The first thing I found was the ring. It was a sultry, oppressive day in late August, and I was hollowed out by pain. I had taken a slow walk down to the beach, in hope of finding a breeze to dispel the worst of the heat, but even here the air was as dense as fog. Waves limped up

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it says be courageous by Logan Roberts (Lucent Dreaming Issue 4)

i would suffocate if it wasn’t for this chunk of skin i am digesting, torn from my finger tip, sinking into me, sinking further into an empty glance, the window— snowing & the internet is fucked. the song that wakes me every morning plays like a dream, phone to ear & i don’t hear anything, but the snow falling heavier

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Like Dreams or Drainpipes by Jo Castle (Lucent Dreaming Issue 4)

Their journeys were two hours apiece, one made theirs from the north, the other the south. This was where their path intersected: a run-down second-hand shop on the east coast. It was a yellowed place facing the promenade, weathered at the edges where the salty breeze of the sea had whipped at it over all those years. It was a

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O by Mari Lavelle-Hill (Lucent Dreaming Issue 4)

& sometimes at night the world is a ring donut i put my finger through *pink sprinkles* even pingu knew of jealousy to melt the ice white but to control shapes would be something every hope i have is a twist in the silver bangle i could never muster the strength to make a dent in malleable metal why i

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Let There Be Music by Magdalena Elcira (Lucent Dreaming Issue 4)

She is my lover. Each beat of Her heart a metronome, keeping these bones in time with the day’s end and rise. This driftwood body longs to reside inside Her: taste those curves of green, swim in her blue salt valleys, concealed in the wooden knots cascading down Her weary shoulders. We write with no purpose but to mimic the

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Soliloquy by Jeffrey Zable (Lucent Dreaming Issue 4)

I confess that I’ve been dying of blanderwoot for as long as I can remember, walking the empty stage in which the curtains smell like snitterpoop, and when I look out into the audience all I see are the faces of guttergnomes, belidians, and children of the living dead that I grew up with in my neighbourhood. Am I afraid?

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The Rhythms of Anxiety by Ian Grosz (Lucent Dreaming Issue 4)

The man sat in the seat opposite and Henry focused on appearing entirely engrossed in his book. In fact, he was not enjoying the book: some dark Noir that made him feel vaguely anxious. “Going far?” the man asked. He was plump, this man, and sweating. Henry felt bad for noticing it. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Hmm?” he

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