Gang Esmeraldas in the balding
Subaru barf-rest meshuga Wrestlemania items
Seleccción washing the bay rum boudoir
Or nine dresses prickled for the prayer files
Mistress California scribbling away
Dollops landing on the mariner leaf-room
I said drips pool bas-relief lotus please
Give one the manual fortress for a visible print
Time for what Mormons insist on calling jube
Nubian Marshall Mathers experience bullet train
Furry shock tubes getting sick in the boots
Listen to me in my white whale outfit
Hexes and camp crippling fox nightmare pap smear
Termites no record is gay but some pretty purse
When have you been some fire and wine
Dare day avoiding me uncle butter knee
In my earring’s right path Hyundai excuse me
Who wants a Juffy a good for you cracker
In foreign two tundras as fille during crag
Sheep soup to find the disrespect to be you
Something in to fertilize your timpani maze



If you’re here, then where’s the sickly negligee
that couldn’t go back to the car reaching tragic goods…
The patriarchy is inexplicable when it comes to sleeping with the fifth ear.
Show us where the soft shrew lands when it is,
when it gets vulgar with intricate sugar babes.
But what about the yummies?
What are you supposed to do when you can’t take care of it?
You’ll have to see me once a day, ingest
the magic of the cockroach,
tell me what to do.
Shifty apartment dogs need to take a rest,
while I’m trying to be a lawyer, and it’s working.
Pistolwhipping just to take a nap;
happier things happen, again.



so, normally what I’m looking for are
preparations for the struggling mentorship of damaged ear hosts
my light the only structure affronting all of these deviant highchairs
beyond balances in the date markets of Al Jouf
supporting my personality from the sunburn of its ceiling
the charm of my ankles sets the horny ones going
the ease of this sandwich desiccates paranoia
a master of teeth and important totality
there is some thing I meant to say deep in the personal bone of sorrow
pregnant with fascists deconversing the mental as a situation
say the garden moves dauntingly and purging the sovereign
is it wise to see this as a version of doom
to you the sounds unsoothe until the end
city of dung, mortar, and telekinesis
tourist yammering about our darlings
it’s good Grace is our Saliva
labyrinthine juice from the moon-vivifying dirt
California going to hell from crackers
to you this is good and to you this is good


LOSARC RAAL is a writer and editor originally from Varna, Bulgaria. He is the author of the chapbooks: [SELF-SELECTIONS] (Trainwreck Press, 2021), The Poetry of Carlux Carluxlax (Reverse Catfish, 2022), and The Adverse Keys (Spiral Editions, 2022). A pamphlet, Dead or Alive (The Creative Writing Department), was published in 2022. He was tyrant over the poetry and arts journal NOMATERIALISM (2020–2022). His first full-length book, NO MATERIAL, is out now from Black Sun Lit. He is currently composing a book of prose poems entitled NOTHING. He has lived in Brooklyn, Greece, Argentina, and Saudi Arabia, and he currently resides in LA. He is on Instagram at @nomaterial_ism