Parts of Zero by Fin Sorrel

I am breastfeeding angels. I hear machines, a knife can be buried in an orchard. I smell dogs coming around the corner. Someone’s lighting candles in the clouds. Oh, cartoons, overpass, worms drip from pears out of the garbage. I am breastfeeding angels. Coy fish swim around my legs when I wake. I drink water from five separate rooms in the abandoned house. I wear a lizard costume to school and carry a lantern of frogs, not flames. I require happiness to breathe my last breath, but this is the culture of hinges, where the tree chops down the maps, a broken chandelier re-assembles at the center of a mansion. I watch myself from a child, raking leaves behind the abandoned house. I am seeing apparitions and fish at night when I walk the streets.


Fin Sorrel is the editor for [a] neon garden ( His work appears at Queen mobs teahouse and in the modern anthology of surrealism. His forthcoming book TRANSVERSAL is an avant garde novel

digital art by Dale Wisely

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