Welcome to our latest issue of Silver Blade poetry.
Browsing all 17 posts in Issue 17.
I am incapable of NOT infusing my fiction (and sometimes even nonfiction) with poetry. Even where it seems an odd additive, I put it there.
My dress is as white as my hopes, my fear,
I dare not look into the mirror.
The wedding contract has been signed.
Long before Bradbury warned us,
we knew that burning books
can consume us all.
Even before they know what’s coming,
the trees commit to the axe.
Issue 17 is my second as Silver Blade’s short fiction editor. I’m proud to be part of the staff and appreciate the opportunity to read the pieces authors submit to us…
We place the chair in the white room
It is a plain chair, made of wood.
The floor is bare cement, stained.
Some unknown force
drives more crows in
one by one.
we’ve all seen
the crucifixion –
we can buy it in plastic
at the corner store
I woke long after midnight
and the walls were receding
into endless constellated hallways