Exterminating Angel Press

Creative Solutions for Practical Idealists.

Summer 2025: Daylight Saving.

Saving Daylight.

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by Benjamin White.

The Golden Age

Is gilded greed,

So save your integrity

In a shoebox

Under your bed

Or in your top drawer

With your secret hopes,

Or buried

In te back yard

Where you mind

And memories

Intersect and meet

To redirect the heat you feel

When you peel the sunshine

From the sky

Until it is gone,

And you don’t know why

It was replaced

By emotions rising

With rain and pain

Caught in the press

With lies disguised

As an exit to paradise

Where sacrifice will be squeezed

Into poverty

Without pride,

Yet justified by the gaps

Widening between

The unseen materialization

Of someone else’s dream

Not hearing

Your hollow scream

Echoing the expense

Spent on monthly payments

Shivering in the lost years

Tears could not rescue

Regardless of

How much

Daylight you tried

To save…

 

Small and Hollow Men: Stories of Failed Redemption.

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by Edward St. Boniface. Mood of the latest welcoming party at Hadesbridge County had something distinctly wrong about it. Atmosphere at the beachfront bungalow was surrealistic, almost. The man’s name was Kitchener apparently, and he had moved into the newly built home only last week. Those at the fringes talked over-loudly about various subjects that […]

The Great Tribulation.

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by Matias Travieso-Diaz. And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see.  Revelation 6:1 The Great Tribulation came upon the world swiftly and proceeded in overlapping phases that went on for many years. As […]

The Impressionist Period and Beyond.

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by Bruce E.R. Thompson. There is a period of our cultural history that has fallen through the cracks, and I believe it deserves our attention. Carving the history of culture into “periods” is a dicey enterprise; but, like the strata in rocks, cultural history does have discernible layers, and it can sometimes be very illuminating […]

A Note to Future Ovids.

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by Charles S. Kraszewski. My father said, When I die I’d like to come back as a hawk turning gyres high on the thermals of the summer air. What a way for a Catholic to talk. My Dad? Metempsychosis? Go figure. But, playing along, as for me, I’d dare aspire (no offence intended to any […]

Corso Umberto.

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by Charles S. Kraszewski.   Every morning at 8:15 they pack themselves into the red sardine can number 122 with their rafts plastic soccer balls beach umbrellas folding boards with cheap sunglasses and their own black bodies to doze all the way to Fontane Bianche. There, they’ll wander up and down the beach with inflatable […]

The Gone Years.

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by Richard LeDue. The 1960s and 70s are dead like an old drunk who killed their liver to save their heart, only to die of in a car accident while complaining about seatbelts to an empty whisky bottle, and the 1980s still alive, pissing into a bag and calling the nurse “Midge,” which leaves death […]

It was simpler, then.

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by Rosalie Hendon.   Gazing through time and memories Up you went on the swingset through the summer afternoon warm with the droning of bees, a gulf didn’t gape between us then Water was just water, not a thing you could drown in  

On the Bench by the River.

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by Lana Hechtman Ayers.   My husband embraces our little dog as she flops baby-seal-like in his lap, sun so bright on her head, the tips of her black fur iridesce to pink and purple. She’s warm as a summer-plump berry. Eyes blinking closed, open, closed. Scents only a dog can sense, her nose twitches […]

One-Eyed Peke.

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by Tori Ritchie. When our dog Caesar died, my father went to the pound and got a Pekingese and named him Sun Yat-sen. My father had a thing for imperious names and this one did have a regal bearing, with his flat nose held high and his spiraled tail waving aloft. But his origins were […]