Category Archives: Mucky Mondays

Mucky Mondays #04 an exclusive 60 minute interview by john compton

an exclusive 60 minute interview

it is dark but the branch slides down the window in such a creepy way
i almost run from the room—and i know it is a tree

but it sends shivers with how meticulous it moves, its leaves licking the glass,
and i imagine it being on a documentary about how it had broken into my house

and killed me, and it’s just smiling at the interviewer
with no remorse, only saddened because it was cut down and apprehended.


john compton (b. 1987), author of 18 books/chapbooks, is a gay poet who lives in kentucky with his husband josh, alongside dogs, cats, & mice. his previous full length book is “my husband holds my hand because i may drift away & be lost forever in the vortex of a crowded store” published with Flowersong Press (dec 2024); his newest full length book is “house as a cemetery” published with Rebel Satori Press (mar 2026). you can find his books, some poems, and other things here: https://linktr.ee/poetjohncompton

Mucky Mondays #03 Greater and Lesser Ghosts by Trace Ramsey

On a turn to light;
chaos within the glow.
All clay-red and mullein-yellow,
distorted color furnace flames,
embering memory
and coal ash dumped in
an unsuspecting stream.

On a turn to the dark;
lonesome snow packed tight.
All ice-blue and envelope-white,
breath low and vapored,
grins full of crooked teeth.
We have our blankets,
heat, lights low and our babies
in the other room.

On a turn to the living;
damp grass, peppermint, ivy
that none of us will reach.
All grass-green and horse-brown.
Speak with me as we walk,
goats in the spent pasture.
Bolted down bollards at the parking lot edge
upright, near the sickly trees,
painting dulled greens and yellows
above the warnings in safety orange.
I’d make a great wife you know,
and I have time for more mistakes.

On a turn to the dead;
instants stood still, suggestions there in the ditches full of trash, a dark dummied oasis.
All concrete-gray and street-black,
passing but thick like all our ghosts
pressed together as one.

traceramsey.com
IG trace.ramsey
“Trace Ramsey is a recipient of the North Carolina Artist Fellowship in Prose. Trace lives in Durham, NC and co-parents two children.“

Mucky Mondays #02 Poem by Tom Snarsky

True things are socially impractical
Is a true thing that’s socially impractical

Handling the truth in a poem is like
Holding a baby goose close

In the hope it will someday defend you
Or your ducks, who can’t do it themselves

Imprinting is something the truth does
Almost by accident, although

As evinced by many small waterfowl
Just bc something imprints doesn’t mean

It can’t be killed

Tom Snarsky lives in Virginia with his wife Kristi and their cats.

Mucky Mondays #01 The Old Vampires by Patricia Russo

The old vampires put on long black dresses
to conceal their thinness
and arrange bright pink shawls over their shoulders
(not red, red is too old-fashioned)
and pretend they have invitations to the wedding.

No one challenges them.
They move through the reception hall stealthily
keeping to the walls
picking up nearly empty glasses to hold as camouflage
until they reach the gifts table

and sip cautiously from the jealousies and the hatreds,
the sharp bit of them like ripe pineapple on the tongue,
then, egging each other on,
they taste the hopes,
so frothy and intoxicating.

The one person who recognizes them from the old days
says nothing, but lifts his own glass in silent salute,
recalling a time when he envied them their certainties,
recalling the tastes of his own blood
on their lips.

 

Patricia Russo’s work has appeared in One Art, Zin Daily, Wild Greens, Vagabond City, Hex Literary, and Eulogy Press.