Two Poems from Alain Ginsberg

/ Alain Ginsberg / Queen of Pentacles
like tentacles, hiding corals and bottles behind trash cans so there is always a weapon when the people who poach come.

Three Poems by Poppy Henderson

/ Poppy Henderson / Queen of Pentacles
When the tub is spilling over and all the tiles awash, I sink in under the speckled surface and I call out to you across the rooms to wake you from sleep

EBB

/ Felix Bernstein / Queen of Pentacles
Yeah whatever but also you are dealing with my melancholic fixation on you, i.e., being haunted. But I’m not an object. Or a lack of object. I’m a ghost. And the ghost is in the machine/ego: we share the same machine.