4 Poems by Trev Plate | Micro-Poetry | #thesideshow

September 30, 2017
The Science of Extinction by Provolone Sinatra | flash fiction | #thesideshow
September 29, 2017
To the Parents of Caroline by Nick Perilli | Flash Fiction | #thesideshow
October 1, 2017







The Balled of Bonni and Klydde
We can all rob banks after the world ends

I love you
Yourself and then your saliva
Yourself and then your bite
Yourself and then nuclear war
Yourself and then my wasteland
Yourself and then two guns and a fast car
Yourself and then Your$$$elf
Yourself and then the southern coast of Mexico
Yourself and then your naked legs on the dash with a cigarette between your toes
Yourself above all else
Except my dog


Was it because I made out with David Lynch at that party, I swear it didn’t mean anything

I saw you from across the room
face down in the pool
And there was no water in the pool
Just a thin layer of dried up chlorine
I saw you from across the room
as you licked at the chlorine
Like it might save your life
Like it might be your life


Youthful Empire, thick with colonies

 Burnt skin, A sun dipped in Ibarra Chocolate and left to cool
Peel back flake by flake, like you might a wandering curse
Like you might peel back a history, all the way back
Until all you have is the blue before a bleeding morning
The withered stars cast spells you remember from your birth
and strange pressures, the dirt beneath your fingernails, your erupting wisdoms
Your clenched jaw, your weighted tongue, your paralyzed condition
All these things are lifted with your skin, a paper-thin exodus
Your flesh is free, your veins revealed like trade routes and footpaths
Guiding you towards a fifth world

About the Author

Trev Plate spent his childhood on the island of Guam and graduated from The Evergreen State College in Washington State with a degree in Literature and Computer Science. He currently resides in Minneapolis, MN where he works in the non-profit sector while he continues to pursue writing.