.nothing found this time. by Sonja Benskin Mesher

they may not like a controversal opinion, so cross it out in black.

i think that red may hit the mark better if there was a facility we

we used to amuse, may be delight, then it was censored. banned


to the bin.


quiet now, you will not hear any controversy, you may only read it



cancelled my apprenticeship




nothing found

from ‘echonone’ by Michael Mc Aloran

(.what resonates is the sound of zero cracking apart.)
(…of the no nothing of/ unspoken of through which or/ no not of a/ of the eye no merely nullified/ unto erased through procession bled/ closed in upon as if it/ in stagnate of/ asks of the nothing more/ no nothing more of/ no not following on from ever-nothing ever of/ solace forgotten in ashen cast upon bankrupt earth design/ a sky rendered absent of colourings/ yet settlement of/ through black light sharp discard of all unto hollow in or on or from/ the acrid reek of the un-saying/ dreamed thin/ exposed…)
(…no not of/ of the no further ever asking of/ other than as if it/ voice what voice/ no nothing of a/ if/ nothing of/ extinguished eye obsolete/ as if to have ever-having other than/ blind witnessed blinded other than/ in/ of/ another/ another/ as if it were/ could be/ silent all the while/ nothing still yet solvent/ in mark as if to/ seizure collapse of/ if no/ sung seizure embalm/ upon bankrupt/ yes/ no/ yes or no/ recoil/ another/ another/ recoil of absent traces…)
(…asks no further into or or if/ (‘regards to the)/ astray in hand/ shaft-black hollow/ ask what matter/ none/ no further into if/ echo-echo absent now/ returns thin words that dissipate of/ no voice/ vacant spaces nothing/ the imprint erased in silenteeism/ delible collapse yet silence ever-decibel/ nothing no longer recognition through/ or of/ in/ no further traces/ distances yet no/ all distance yes forgotten/ origin forgotten/ blind traces/ forgotten realms…)
(…in lapse non-lapse/ utterance collapse rescind relapse expel undone/ silence silence knock upon absent no longer the vapours of it/ burned clear/ not a sound merely simulacrum/ rot sound upon decay no longer the/ in/ absent blindwhite no static yes no dark’s reclamation of/ the voice devoured/ remnants cast/ yet untraced returning as if to/ lock unto premise/ premise no no longer given axial suffocate of final word/ what is/ ever if in now/…)
(…viewed from the lack of/ or vantage point of disappearing spaces/ of the blood spent in/ expelled by/ in view of/ naught of/ the lie the dream’s eradicate/ words no more than traces of a silent realm/ in-dream yet of a sun long foreign/ walls upon in given laughter tidal final/ beyond sight or/ wilting echoing out into the nothing claiming all/ spitting out the/ silenced by the nullity of…)
(…from in eye of suspend/ of the vocal attribute snuffed/ silenced respond of a silent response/ no longer other/ demise what yet of/ in/ structure fragment structure fade into/ done with long done it cannot be vocalised/ (‘perhaps the stripped skin of animal a-breathe/ raw embers upon’)/ no nothing of it/ no glimpse in that and so back to endless silent/ blind cataract of breathe/ spill upon/ ever unto/ negated/…)
(…bleak yes or no the word(less)/ out where there the word bleak yes the/ yet silenced/ no nothing more of the trail from absent/ the absent from/ erasure of/ lights fragments a clear film of shadowing/ in the whisper as if to unto for/ if the whisper were as if/ unto/ wall of sky a backdrop of final nothing/ lights fragments deemed as if there were/ vocalised/ and yet unsung/ the collapsed voice/ the/ uttering none of all/…)
(…the voice seeks distances beyond/ else/ which/ stray bite upon absent air/ the subject shears it has no image collective/ recollect/ impales the eye/ eye recoils into the silence/ echoing out from yet it clasps the severed light cast upon through denuded eye upon/ through absent definition/ mere sound and the breath’s recoil from out of which/ the voice seeks blindly/ the words of which fail/…)
(…of the bite it is the/ stone lack/ fades from out of design/ grasps yet from point of which/ fails dry speech of/ retort of/ unto/ voice no/ clamour yes/ bite a-breathe of seek what matter/ nothing more vast nor detached than if/ as if/ what matter if/ subtle/ violent/ inept/ spills from the lung of speech rot through of bountiless eye’s lock/ drift what clear/ in severance tidal/ bled out…)
(…in ocular roving of in-speech/ of speech retract/ buckles under no not of/ emptily/ piss upon final embers/ as if to enflame no not/ breath aligned no not of/ in/ or of/ of the fragments of till waste/ spoken/ burnt black/ clear as liquid undefined/ in the face of/ what this/ of this/ trace yes or no/ sunk judder of cerebrum recoil/ eye/ un-eye in the darkness/ rummaging finding only further/ dead zone/ unquantify/…)

Excerpt from ‘the zero eye’ by Michael Mc Aloran

bone break
…the breakage lingers/ for as long as the bone concedes/ yet gathering nothing of the split breath spanning the breathless of benign/ asking of a sky bereft of anything less or more than a wing’s expanse/ a dry hack in violent abandoned silences/ then echo of till sudden wrench of spleen/ an opening hand/ to follow/ caresses the bone shadow until silenced/ motionless/ the laughter-lung expiring from out of the flayed earth/ no hunger lest to follow on from silences escaping/ a-wrenched once more unto the brief bereft/ all spun/ sung/ silenced/ what matter/ drifting as of ablaze through spit long shale of a deft absence/ cleft the amber of the lung’s abound/ no nothing/ abounding/ cleft of light till words abound repeat/ headless as if to ask of/ seasoned then/ as if to gift the night from out of the sanded dusts of/ hollow semblances…
…(or perhaps a fragment here or there/ asking of the pitch pivot the screaming edge at the edge of which the edge of a glistening blade/ to caress a spent light havoc of until occluded/ fucked/ forgotten/ whispers of silenced less than ever was/ before)…
…the breakage lingers/ as long as the flesh is (de)parted/ fleshed abandon a blessed tide of breakage lasts as long as the bone forgets/ a tryst of the redeem in wisp of bloodless letting/ dry stead in a winter absence/ amber of the lung’s abound/ repeat till silenced motion splayed once more an open hand of spleen of the lung’s abound…for the nothing of the unforgotten/ the un-remembered/ the stretched lungs of promise-else/ here or there a pissoir’s dreaming in arachnid coma of tumour/ benign lights sudden to unfold striking out/ basking of/ convex/ paring away the head spasm/ lock-held/ where nothing can touch merely embers to caress…
…(flies upon blood-flecked snow a menagerie of teeth/the sunlight glistens upon the wings of the outstretched nothingness claiming the all/ for not/of the forgotten the un-remembered/the piss of this or that of the beneath silences masquerading as some form of punch-line to the emasculation of bitter seeds smearing their nothing in spite of/as if to say/or nothing having/begun no not uttering nothing having been claimed or else forgot-ten/smears of animals upon clear glass/time eradicated/collapse of breath in the breathing spasm/ turning upon the heel of the undone till ask of/threatened none/exhaled/dreaming else/ dreaming all the while/the flies will gather/nothing more)…
…the lingering bone breakage seared-snapped/ a callous of violet winds till breach from nowhere left to else or of the spasm fading/ there is blood flecked in the vacant eyes/ dense walls of shit-smeared permutations/ aching of none or of the next until/ some solace in/ streaming forth/ break now or forever be in havoc lights/ blending with the amber of the nothing known the nothing cared for/ snap-snap the sudden ache of debilitate/ the liquid hands delve through soil/ restless the maggot truth of a sky absent of less than ever was before/ an ache of flesh of meat what spun till entropy/ atrophic/ drugged to the bones in shine of abattoir kaleidoscopic/ a catascope in roomscape of sudden amber/ the split wrists of benign self-execution/ throughout the syringe dusts to caress the callused exigency/ of lack lest there was never enough beauty to keep the absence the lack the searing nothing of the none/ in dismemberment of the heretofore/ the silent executioner smiling/ the old airs rising as if to snatch the breath from out of speech/ useless speech/ useless echoings…
…(draft none/alack/a reek of some solace pyre/ breathing out/settled never settled/ stepping forth till back again once more in glint of blood-flecked snow/dust/and the bleak hand cold covering the mouths of babes/shredded silences/ echoes ever/ onwardly…)
the zero eye coverart


Michael Mc Aloran was Belfast born, (1976). He grew up in Co. Clare. He is the author of a number of collections of poetry, prose poetry, poetic aphorisms and prose, most notably ‘Attributes’, (Desperanto, NY, 2011), ‘The Non Herein’ & ‘Of Dead Silences’ (Lapwing Publications, 2011/ 2013), ‘Of the Nothing Of’, ‘The Zero Eye’, ‘The Bled Sun’, ‘In Damage Seasons’,(Oneiros Books (U.K)–2013/ 14); ‘Code #4 Texts’, a collaboration with the Dutch poet, Aad de Gids, was also published in 2014 by Oneiros. He was also the editor/ creator of Bone Orchard Poetry, & edited for Oneiros Books (U.K 2013/ 2014). A further collection, ‘Un-Sight/ Un-Sound (delirium X.), was published by gnOme books (U.S); and ‘EchoNone’ & was also released 2015 by Oneiros Books…’breath(en) flux’, a chapbook, was recently released by Hesterglock Press. Black Editions Press recently released ‘in absentia’ & ‘In Arena Night’…

if i were to sleep by David McLean

if i were to sleep i would not care where the monster might come to take me unless there were parts of dolls broken, a furnace & an innocence. mad Abby spreads discarded batteries everywhere, she is wearing her heaven sown together from frightened children & dead men, she is made of guns & love & does not give a shit about what words is.  i wish we could all exist

confusion was by David McLean

confusion was emotion, mostly, never sex
which i found entirely straightforward
bruises & memory.

the brutality of memory is transparency
a laughing fish. ghosts
& the hopeless.

in the broken room we wear skull
& love. like Trakl’s old priest
walks the village square,

the children are an abomination.
there is so little shame in us,
everything we touch

here is beasts by David McLean

here is beasts, they are always
angry almost. i aspire to this hateful

i reassemble myself
dismembered. here fragmentary
& nothing wrong with it.

identity is a defective whore
i prefer the fang, the nowhere
but my mythical animal she is

disconsolate. & i am but meat
& resurrection, stitched together
with memory, like May in her movie

gorgeous, what she wants is pieces
of people, disjecta membra
which i love to be, scissors

that snip & bits of me. Emma
if you want them reassemble
as needed – we are nothing & free

she is insect by David McLean

she is insect oblivion i touch an absence, every inch of skin a kingdom, a principality. the ranks of animal angels are secret like the occult fists i want her to kill me with – the best is a fang, an answer, & she is best of them, the sinews & the missing, the lack i am, she is madness in my disgraceful veins, the changeless divine that is Demonica the eternal dressed in words & torture; & i am here to worship her, i am hers to murder


David McLean is from Wales but has lived in Sweden since 1987. He lives there with his dogs. In addition to various chapbooks, McLean is the author of eight full-length poetry collections. Four of there are from Oneiros Books and called NOBODY WANTS TO TO TO HEAVEN BUT EVERYBODY WANTS TO DIE (June, 2013), THINGS THE DEAD SAY (Feb, 2014), OF DESIRE AND THE LESION THAT IS THE EGO (May, 2014) & ZARA & THE GHOST OF GERTRUDE (Oct, 2014). The eighth is OF DESIRE & THE DESERT at Black Editions Press. Two novels HENRIETTA REMEMBERS (2015) & FLESH & RESURRECTION (2015) are also at Oneiros Books. More information about McLean can be found at his blogs http://mourningabortion.blogspot.com/ & http://davidcmclean.wordpress.com/. His two latest chapbooks are also out Black Editions Press: PASSION IS DEAD FLESH & TOO MUCH HUMAN.

Annularity by Sanjeev Sethi

Unbuttoned top or trousers is sloppiness or salacity?

Neither, maybe a bit of both. There was no coronet

to cap, placed ourselves aside for sake of conscience.

Conscientiousness is summative of consumption.

A schlockmeister may be virtuous. It is erroneous

to evaluate him on his vendibles. A modiste or milliner

is heroine at home or on her FB wall. I am exhausted

of adverts, out-of-proportion  assessments of self and

situations. I packed ample in gulps of gin. Debating

with drunks is plying wheels of rigidity. Negotiations

sparkle in the median. It is verbalization sans words.