Blood Pudding Press

04/09/2026

"sliced out of me, a
cyst like a bulb of
garlic streaked red
bulbous head grown
onto an o***y, I
only saw one photograph
they wouldn’t let me
have a copy
it’s my body"

in the poem "ABDOMINAL SOUP" by Stasha Cole, in the September issue of Rogue Agent

read more here -

sliced out of me, a cyst like a bulb ofgarlic streaked redbulbous head grownonto an o***y, Ionly saw one photographthey wouldn’t let mehave a copyit’s my bodylaparoscopic incisions stillslice and dice the insidethe ovaries lookedlike the inside of my cheekstreaked with veins andsoft; in the dinn...

03/09/2026

"I’m the knife thrower.
I’m also the woman
tied to the wheel,
spinning and grinning,
keeping that smile
plastered on her face
while she tries not
to flinch or scream."

in the poem "KNIFE THROWING" by Trystan Popish, in the September issue of Rogue Agent

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I’m looking at graphsof my blood sugar,trying to home in on that narrow slice of “okay” my doctors constantly remind me I am aiming for.Too low I might lose consciousness.Too high the complications beginto cut into my skin.

02/09/2026

"The moon hangs above the ambulance bay,
white as the bulbs that hum inside,
its pull dragging the hurt from every street.

Tonight, the knife wounds bloom faster,
the drunks grow teeth,
and the air tastes of iron and ozone."

in the poem "Full Moon Shift" by Rick C. Christiansen, in MasticadoresIndia

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Full Moon Shift By Rick Christiansen The doors breathe open and shut—a tide of blood and voices.Heat clings to the gurneys,sweat slicks the vinyl gloves. Someone screams before they arrive,another …

02/09/2026

"Share it in your story.
Don't forget to tag me
in your existential crisis of the week."

in the poem "Existential Crisis of the Week" in the chapbook "Pareidolia" by April Ridge (Pure Sleeze Press, 2026)

02/09/2026

"The world is a bruise
that keeps blooming.
No salve.
No apology.
Just more hurt
dressed like headlines."

in "Love Poem at the End of the World" in the chapbook "Still Here" by Heather Kays (Pure Sleeze Press, 2026)

01/09/2026

"Most of the time
the day gets away from her
before she's really accomplished
much more than what is required to
sustain this life
without the alarms going off.

The internal sobbing
rendered mostly silent with drugs"

in the poem "Erasure of the Spirit" in the chapbook "Pareidolia" by April Ridge (Pure Sleeze Press, 2026)

01/09/2026

"I want to tell you exactly how it was
in 1996, before the towers fell
before the first time I heard
global warming, war on terror
but I don't quite remember,
not all the way,
millennial fever dreams
Princess Diana, fireflies"

in the poem "millennial musings" in the chapbook "Roots, Seeds, Stems, and Leaves" by Anjelica Wren (Pure Sleeze Press, 2026)

01/09/2026

"marbled--moving toward
decomposition, the
inevitable withering."

in the title poem in the chapbook "Pothos" by Hiromi Yoshida (Pure Sleeze Press, 2026)

01/09/2026

"All love smells like sugar
and rust.
Sometimes I dream
my voice is a stray dog
pacing the yard
beyond the fence."

in the poem "Muzzle" by Heather Kays, In Conversation at The Literary Underground

read more here -

Muzzle There is a key in my throat but it belongs to someone else. When I try to speak the sound comes out like a chair dragged slowly across the floor of an empty church. They say you should be grateful. So I nod. The ceiling leaks pennies. The walls have ears that whisper almost ...

01/09/2026

"There is a key in my throat
but it belongs
to someone else.
When I try to speak
the sound comes out
like a chair dragged slowly
across the floor
of an empty church."

the beginning of the poem "Muzzle" by Heather Kays, In Conversation at The Literary Underground

read more here -

Muzzle There is a key in my throat but it belongs to someone else. When I try to speak the sound comes out like a chair dragged slowly across the floor of an empty church. They say you should be grateful. So I nod. The ceiling leaks pennies. The walls have ears that whisper almost ...