Exterminating Angel Press

Creative Solutions for Practical Idealists.

EAP: The Magazine Archive

My Last Word.

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by Lana Hechtman Ayers.

This red room is coming to an end.
See how the overhead bulb flickers?

You insist on baking bread
but I have no time for crumbs.

Allow me to sink into violet chimes
as my shadow grows deeper.

Some will gossip about sonnets,
others about Sonny Rollins on sax.

All curiosity transports,
no boarding ticket necessary.

Every time it rains, know
that it’s just me saying hello.

 

All at Sea.

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by Cliff Beck. Sailing eastwards under a clear sky towards yet another day that once seemed so far away we follow the stars we have always known to steer by. I stand motionless at the prow between the bow wave which, like the treasure trove of memories saved from my journey to now, grows ever […]

On the Cusp of 77.

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by David Bolton. Take a gander at what came and what’s to come In the meantime, seek the amber of the setting sun After a day at the screen. my strained eyes hunger for beauty Along the way to no destination, I say hello to strangers, commenting on the perfect weather, the absence of crushing […]

Dead Moose In The Road.

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by John Grey. Cars in both directions stop. All drivers share the same helplessness. A deep ditch stands guard on both sides. There’s no getting around the corpse.   There are not enough of us to move the thing. A few lean over the unfortunate beast. Some turn their heads out of respect One suggests […]

Colas Breugnon.

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by Jerzy Liebert. (translated by Charles S. Kraszewski.)   The angels drive from Eden bold Men, birds, and deer trembling with dread. No more ambrosia, sweet and gold. They’ve given us cow milk, and black bread. God thought that quartering black bread, We’d wring our hands in anger rank But — bread tastes better than […]

Waterfront, Memorial Day ’88.

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by Stephen Mead. “Good Morning Vietnam” the theatre marquee read. I could see it between these porch beams & our neighbors roofs. It takes awhile to sink in, twenty years or more back then, to bring the war home, let the unmentionable surface for what it was, was not & will forever more be: both. […]

Since you asked.

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by Diana Morley. what two weeks in a hospital bed was like— my mouth so dry I’m careful— I fear losing tongue cells on opening doc explains, my intestine dry as a Lowe’s outdoor plant—adding too much water at first could simply drown it scooping last bit of ice from a paper cup with a […]

A Crook in the Rain.

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by Marissa Bell Toffoli. There is too much forgetting. I hold my breath as if it will hold everything– press pause for us. An alarm chimes, the laundry is done. A car beeps in the distance, traffic moves on. I chide myself, don’t let the day’s distractions lead. Through the kitchen window, I pocket another […]

What Binds Us.

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by Barry Vitcov. These times are not about finding your socks in the vegetable bin or cauliflower in the sock drawer Those are simply lapses of distraction No, these times are about forgetting: doctrines, precedents, understanding, social mores, kindness, do unto others It’s about trying to remember permanence, values, empathy, commonality, and a social contract […]

Forgetting.

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by Caitlin O’Halloran. I once lost my hairbrush and spent an entire evening looking for it. My mother always said I’d never get anywhere in life if I couldn’t keep track of my things. “You’re just like your father,” she’d tell me. My father could never remember anyone’s name. On the rare occasions when we […]