B-MOVIE by D.E. Oprava

The eleventh offering from Ten Pages Press is now available: B-Movie by D.E. Oprava.

on hold

Bakelite radio plugged into the porcelain socket, empty, a cobwebbed pull chain silent. A dim glow from the pre-transistor tube and a hum, listen:

It’s not going to get any better, not during this circumnavigation of the solar navel, or otherwise: take notes, this has import, as important as eating five portions of crudités per day, honest. This is vital, signs of the apocalypse are now called advertisements- wait for it. There, high five for the maidenhead coming in from Shanghai (they can clone anything these days) hold on, news flash: wait for it.

today, no, tomorr…
no, gravity and situations
are getting a divorce

Broken news, life and death, mostly death, affects our daily disaffection for morning cereals, serial mourning, and side orders of after-effects they say very fast at the end of adverts. Success, measured by algorithms too complex for plain happy or sad: beware, made up word, happy, also cloned with chemicals. Your patience is apprehended. Thank you.


Offering #10 from Ten Pages Press is now available: Dreaming Knives and Nightmares by Puma Perl.

dreaming in daylight

she fakes orgasms
with herself
just to get it
over with,
hopes sleep
will come,

she misses
nicotine patches,
and glorious
in darkness,
for the magic,
like a robot.

the sun
does push-ups,
fantasy runs laps,
moon exploded,
hours knock
on windows,
she sleeps
in daylight,
night waits.

(Previously appeared in Gutter Eloquence Magazine.)

LIMINAL by Tantra Bensko

The ninth offering from Ten Pages Press is now available: please enjoy Liminal by Tantra Bensko.



Quantumly speaking, the universe is like

A paper wad, unfolded now.


A corner folds down

Touches the other side.


What do we need, my son?

To live and die forever,

Forwards, backwards,

Angled up together

Like the clinking shinies

In your pocket,

Corners flapping loose.

You are everything


Spread out against the sky.

It’s corners fold to touch

Each other, points of contact made

Against things that had not

Rubbed up against each other

For trillion years.


And on some far extended

Pocket of the sky,

There is another you

Who’s touching now

Another me, as once they

Did when we were young,

So young we were indeed

Someone else.


And we feel them touch,

We feel some strains of light

Burst free, some love

Lit up, mysteriously,

Our eyes, which take on

Subtle differences of meaning,

And we fall


Into the sky’s enfoldment,

Growing brighter as we burn

More quickly, shinies

In the pocket of everything.


The eighth offering from Ten Pages Press is an excerpt from a larger collection of poems about Alfred Hitchcock. I hope you will enjoy A Taste of Hitchcock by Lyn Lifshin.

DREAM # 527

another train dream.
It’s not the first one but
usually he’s the conductor
in charge directing the
shots. But this time he’s
lost his ticket, has no idea
of the destination. The
train twists thru blinding
sun and dark chasms. His
reflection in the bathroom
glass startles. Is it a twin, a
double he wonders, lulled
by the jostle of rails. He
dreams he orders a double
vodka, imagines the man
in the train glass is his
double, a twin. Suddenly
the train goes to the under
world and he imagines
the dark tunnel is a
lens he’s viewed
thru that he can’t
hide from

I WAS A TEACHER ONCE by Michael H. Brownstein

Here is the seventh offering from Ten Pages Press, one for the teachers: I Was a Teacher Once & Other Philosophies by Michael H. Brownstein.


We wonder what is in the water. Sugar,
Cookies, ripe persimmons, cotton
Candy. We know it is not any of these.
Some things are valued less.
Everything is always that simple.


Here is the fifth offering from Ten Pages Press: In the Palace of Dying Light by John Sweet.

the refusal

shoot the doctor in the
back as he walks away then
tell him he’s a coward while he
dies at your feet

it’s an addiction,
like humor

it’s a punchline

you capture the soldier, a
boy of fifteen or sixteen, and
then you torture that fucker
until he’s on the floor in a
pool of his own shit and blood

this is how wars are won

make your children
understand this

tell them how much you hated
your own father,
how much he hated you

show them the scars

explain how they can only
grow up to
repeat your mistakes


Here is the fourth offering from Ten Pages Press: 72 Magpies Fucking in Buffalo by Catfish McDaris.

Oh Woof

After visiting the gargoyles
of Montmartre, my lady
decided to shop

I stood outside smoking
a Gitane watching people,
a man approached & asked
if I wanted to screw his sister

I looked around, but saw no
sister, I replied no, he replied
how about my brother, he’s
young & tight, I shook my head

Do you have a dog, I asked
the Frenchie looked appalled
fucking Americans, he said
walking away swiftly

My lady exited the shop,
she said did you make a
new friend, I said almost
dear almost.


Now that Ten Pages Press has published two e-chaps (Evidence Pie by Misti Rainwater-Lites and White Heat by Todd Moore), I am hoping to receive feedback regarding the font I chose to use. Currently the chaps are published in Goudy Old Style, however how the readable font I see when I create the file is not so readable when it appears as a PDF in Google Docs. What do you think? Is it OK or should I default to something else? Please leave me some comments.

Many thanks.

EVIDENCE PIE by Misti Rainwater-Lites

Here is the second e-chapbook: Evidence Pie by Misti Rainwater-Lites.

Here is a previously published poem by Misti:

baby loss

the moon must be in cancer
i am dripping milk & tears
playing wendy to all the grubby
everlastingly charming lost boys
dog paddling in my wicked mermaid
lagoon my own mother has been lost
at sea for centuries the sailors
carve her mythology into my salty skin
& the domineering octopi wave magic
into my uterine cave so deep & invisible
& tangled with crying dolphin orgasms

(It originally appeared in Negative Suck)

WHITE HEAT by Todd Moore

The first offering from Ten Pages Press is White Heat by the late, great Todd Moore. This is a collection I previously published; I am reprinting it. It can be found here.

Here is another previously published poem by Moore.

dillinger sd

never trust
a woman
or an auto
matic makley
flicked his
cigaret stub
at a passing
cop who
turned a
round to
give him a
stare sd
waddya do
if you
wanna get
laid dillinger
grinned sd
all bets
are off
when it’s
a sweet
piece of

You can read all of the Todd Moore poems I had the pleasure of publishing here.