New Featured Artist : Thomas Riesner

New Featured Artist : Thomas Riesner
Soul Worlds-3 by Thomas Riesner Mad Swirl is pleased to bring back artist Thomas Riesner, who you may remember for his nightmare-ish and dark creatures. As frightening as they appear at first glance - all wobbly lines and big eyes - there's something endearing about his subjects. A (not quite) humanness that strikes a resemblance to a[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 01.15.22

The Best of Mad Swirl : 01.15.22
••• The Mad Gallery ••• Even More Dazzling Than the Unknown ~ Bill Wolak To see all of Bill's mad collages, as well as our other former featured artists (over 50 in total), take a virtual stroll thru Mad Swirl’s Mad Gallery! ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This past week on Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum... we recalled all through talk[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 01.08.22

The Best of Mad Swirl : 01.08.22
••• The Mad Gallery ••• Another Unforeseen Enigma ~ Bill Wolak To see all of Bill's mad collages, as well as our other former featured artists (over 50 in total), take a virtual stroll thru Mad Swirl’s Mad Gallery! ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This week to hype more Holiday Hijinx in Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum... we saw how we[read more]

No, no longer a god

I am a cloud, he said
Lavishly spreading his glee on my windows
No, you are not
I frown and mumble in my chin
You, sir, are a figment of my imagination
Be true to yourself, dear
Your jealousy might change my mood
From fluffy, feathery white I might turn to dark stormy, lightning spitting in a blink of an eye
If I say I am a cloud, then, goddammit
I am
I have all the features
The grace, the plump form, the easiness to glide on the open blue sky
I can smile as easily as I can thunder my curses through my lashes
I definitely spy on you every chance I get
No, no longer I am a god
From now on
you all will treat me as a passing cloud
A midsummer innocent cloud
A light prayer to a merciful sky

Recently Published

The Pocket-Magpies

I’ll trade a Sampson Mordan
ruby glass vinaigrette bottle
a third full of the heartbroken
tears of a ‘tricked’ virgin
3 weeks away from dollymop
… for some dry powder,
a[read more]

A Polyglot Portrait

There is a syntax
a toddler applies to name the stars
she’s never seen

There’s another one at bedtime,
the damnation-and-entreaty dialect
of a disappointed angel

It’s[read more]

Faff

Caring mustn’t be faff, not overcomplicated, burdensome,
A perceived waste of time. Rather, when one extends bits
Of heart, is adroit in affirming feelings, maybe, also gifts
Arits[read more]

Delete

Delete

I didn’t like my Fiat. It had become too old. So, I pressed the delete button on it and it was gone. Later that day I saw an advertisement in a newspaper. A girl who was pissed-off with her boyfriend had asked only a dollar in exchange for her new Toyota that she got as a gift from him. But when I approached her in person, she gave it for free. Next was my annoying neighbor. I didn’t like him right from the day he shifted to my neighborhood. He was[read more]
On Aeaea Again

On Aeaea Again

We breakfast together on grapes and figs while lying on wild grass, take a walk around our island, fill our eyes with sea, fill our ears with bird song. I drive her to the Loose Wolf where she lunches with the women who tend to the island gardens. I sit six feet away and watch her out of the corner of my eye, the bend and flick of her wrist, the skin of her neck so soft I caress and kiss it with my peripheral vision. I see that she sees[read more]
The Table Captain

The Table Captain

1 Back in the 1950s, when Brooklyn Tech was an all-boys high school, I volunteered for the post of lunchroom table captain. Little did I know that this post would ultimately change my life. We sat in rows of five or six tables in a huge room. About thirty of us sat in each row. We would pass along our garbage to the two table captains, who would drop it into a large garbage can. Why would anyone volunteer for the job of table captain? None of us had dreams of one day[read more]