The way words explain but do not explore themselves…. Its like the way words collect into a phrase, that has never before existed. The way what has been mapped wearing big, ideas like clothes can never flash into the unknown. Moving again, this hand is with the sun. As words discovers the meaning that defines … Continue reading »
There was a time when coke was much cheaper. But that was after all in the 90s; and what’s more, its rise in price is nothing compared to what taxes have done to smoking. Two when I started, seven bucks is the going rate for a pack of smokes in Ann Arbor. But coke is … Continue reading »
During the winter it gets dark early in Belfast. You may grudgingly accept that this is the price you pay for those heady long summer nights, but even so, it’s December now, and June is a long way off. It’s difficult to conjure the memory of warmth and blue evening skies when it’s pitch black … Continue reading »
We are currently working on the Spring print edition based on online contributions. We will choose pieces from our pool of online publications from the start of The Blue Hour through March 31st. All pieces published after that date will not be eligible for this print edition. So if you have submissions and would like … Continue reading »
I broke the words I raised the wings: the pain descended through the walls. Spanish translation rompí las palabras alcé las alas: el dolor descendía por las paredes. Translated by Claudia Ferrari Continue reading »
We are trying to find the end of the ocean, reasons for dying, for taking one’s own life. “It’s so beautiful,” Mia says. Then adds, “And awful.” The sun is a white blister. Sand crystals clings to Mia’s face making her look like a prophet or a statue of one. In the distance gulls flit … Continue reading »
Photo by Kevin McEvoy Ketchikan, Alaska The Blue Hour is reading for New Years day submissions. If you have poetry, prose or artwork about New Years Day, please send it to bluehourmagazine@gmail.com. Continue reading »
I have decided that poetry is right for me because I have so little time to write you see. A mother must learn to brush her teeth while pondering questions of life and death. She must hold in mind words to give birth to later and incubate them while cooking the dinner. She must dive … Continue reading »
I am driving down a hill without name on an unnumbered highway. This road transforms into a snake winding around coiled on hair pin turns. See how it hisses though this long night. Why am I alone? At bottom of the incline lies a dark village strangely hushed with secrets. How black it is. How … Continue reading »
