No One Knew

My First Car

After (Short Story Published in Reflection's Edge)

Royal Tender (a punt for the poet laureateship)
A truth dirtier than a nine-bob-noteis that we all crave our majesty’s facemultiplied and pressed tightup against our thighs.Coin after coin plunked in close to the crotchwith the jingling ecstasy of bed-springs,or paper crumple-creasedas tissues soiled and greased.We don’t much care which profile’s nestled there,the young and thin, or the slight double chinprovided she’s replenishedagain and again.

ditch, | the poetry that matters
ditch, | the poetry that matters

3 New Poems Published in Ditch Magazine
Eletriptan (Why We Can't Own a Gun)LineCutsavailable at:http://www.ditchpoetry.com/stevenash.htm

Sad Jack (A Halloween Poem)
Sad Jack, no shadow, he lopes through the streetshis pockets brimming with cross-salted bread.All around he hears the auditors of his dreams,the night magnifies the price on his head.Poor Jack once tricked the devil, had him stuckin a tree, and now the underworld’s blocked.With Lucifer one should not try his luckand through Peter heaven’s gates can be locked.The judgement of a single long-dead saintcursed miserly Jack to the borderlandof a weeping sky and always dead day,his only protection a hand-carved lamp.His fear tugs his wrist like a child’s fingers,dragging him onward further from th

Snag
The rakings of a strange comedy, in the making of a skewed tree, squirm in its every limb and leaf. A faintness of the arteries bound in knotted alleys. There’s nothing like the power of a good costume, like sawdust to stir the blood, better than any daydream. To be hidden from a world of light and stand in a communion of quiet.