'Pider III










 Dennis James Sweeney      / Where is the laundry fuzz?
                                                      Where is the sick?
                                                      Where is the clean air?





L.E. Doughtie      / 6 




Hannah Rodabaugh      / You Were Isn't




Billy Cancel      / was presenting human oddities for pleasure when 
                                                                                i first saw your face
                                 got you treat sinister dirge recap
                                 bug howling something maybe to cabbage
































D e n n i s J a m e s S w e e n e y












Where is the laundry fuzz?



The laundry fuzz ends up on the hall tree, chotchkies and fire, exclaimed unwrapped and relegated. Don’t we get no items that don’t not create in us love. It swims, half drowns. Reflect all the way down the hallways but you never go there, aren’t no doors, only sparkly lights look at. Times you think, sparkly lights is all there is. Other times they just blind.

















Where is the sick?



Cat fish people. Fleck off blue cliffs on gone continents, ice froze waves  down below, it’s action. Waves keep roll, boat holds tight in yellow coat.  Waves them stop, boat motor says go. Get to the rocks, start again, got  whole cliffs to climb. All that floppy yellow rubber. Stop boat, stop waves.  Take it off.





















Where is the clean air?



Look close at the sock toes. Suck deep and get clean, mucus membranes,  filters black with God. The little things, pores of pores, microfabulous  specks of dimensions not concieved. Good business in there, you want  spotless. Clean sneaks. Don’t respect dirty. Don’t like like the life that gets  all over it, particles blank, blind eternal winks in the great night sky.
































H a n n a h R o d a b a u g h
















You Were Isn't




Green carbonated arc—blip—oriental
Slice—out of walking space a—wicker
Basket—
Where we walk
Like jungle in
Pine, pitcher, cerulean and other bright
Vestibules.
“I love the bees” you said. “How they move like
Right angles
Against my ear to where
The flower is.”
Fuchsia like burst metal.
Rubbed up and tarnished blue is
Biting itself like a dog with fleas  
Over the grass. 

 “This is what home—
We tuck in—a consistency
Like fingers—stuck through dough.”
“We make space 
Through an indentation of 

The self.”























L. E. D o u g h t i e












































































































































B i l l y C a n c e l


















was presenting human oddities for pleasure when i first saw your face
unusual to one habitually decoy     thought clientele would
show any sec     total pioneering means pioneering
burn     weed out mice though fruit thereof are
uncertain     flagged up rave region fresh testament
something to undercut         might even float through
cryptic quotation     fields of scribble     sincerely hope we don’t
repeat last year’s     slow mo entropic root dig     sacred host
had numb arms curved sticks     stand alone alternative
to fog horn lantern stop signal     kept beseeching
abbreviator for some epic give     tap rhythmically
upon noble shell         through little stroll about upscale shopping
mall you made this perfectly clear     am strange creature with
various voices now give me my name     depraved
clubber?     borderline dad?     imagination
widow     meanwhile upon the edge of
domed megacity i bite
a pill in
half on the
4am boat





















got you treat sinister dirge recap
something for your dream reconfiguration
list blunt categorization surprisingly quite
funny         was seeking strand to splash corrupted
zone     high balled all the way to imperial
brine     fluffed reconstruction at tender drag was
uninsurable no watchman         cute opening for
flake compliance     ambiguity drain upon
the clock     pastoral with binary flick getting
no one     meltdown jr occupies simpletons
from his lofty state throughout wolf winter     little
psycho’s share was covered in star mould         roots
torn up over large area knew you were
near us     deep fried transition blunted my outline     garbage
got me used to people     was unloaded of
muted grey violet tones         happy hour at
negative space buy one get
cut     reflection: pushed though radiation age but reward shall be
scratchy inner life illuminated in colors but otherwise
unlike this aforementioned labyrinth    





















bug howling maybe something to cabbage
midnight sun     shovel shovel intermittent
dance     art scene gold rush so dabbling
in strife     tweaked irregularities as frame
device alternative     dense arrangements green
orange black         kept having to restart trying
to create     illusions of depth     dove grey rust
pastiche beneath radioactive sunset     monsters
outside my window     things ominous & dumb     tried
to load you from wound treasure via slant image
seamlessly link each turn & tilt throughout
our empty space rich in associations         jot down
all the above     drop it in defect card receptor
squeeze a sandbar into a type of cube
prescribe rituals oaths passwords         nearly
drowned trying to saving some
lad from weed entanglement only to
fly at each other claw
& beak         welcome to new north
to emerge     king torch this