Pinhole Camera

One of my earliest memories
of you
passes through
the eye
of a pinhole camera

I was taking pictures
outside the commons
when I saw you
walking by, we met eyes
I knew I had to get to know you

my oatmeal canister
was shoddy, too much light leaked in
the prints came out
over and double exposed, but
I had found another subject to pursue

we exchanged notes
I wrote my name on your bedroom wall
3 attempts and 16 years later
you’re still my favorite
we turned out crisp, you and I, conclusively composed

In-flight Literary Magazine is now LIVE

Steve Shultz:

I’m proud to be included in this new endeavor from the Paper Plane Pilots. Check out all the amazing contributors!

Originally posted on Paper Plane Pilots:

In-flight Literary Magazine is presented by Paper Plane Pilot Publishing, designed by Ace Kingsly, Webmaster, and Leigh Ann Kyle, Art Director. Holden Lyric is the editor-in-chief, while Jent Garrison (Business Manager & Editor), r. Miller (Editor), Alice Clemens (Editor), Derek Childs (Writer), Dani Blue (Writer), and Brian Andrade (Writer) manage submissions. One Paper Plane Pilot will spotlight each issue with four featured works. Submissions are open internationally to the public for works of fiction, creative non-fiction, poetry, screenwriting, photography, and art. We are now celebrating the launch of our inaugural issue. Celebrate with us by reading incredible work by:

E.M.
Lucile Barker
John De Herrera
J.L. Estes
Hannah Frank
Mark A. Gruwell
Victor George Matak
Anne McMaster
Shyami Nazzaro
Silvester Phua
Bia Riaz
Veronica Robbins
Tempest Rose
Angel Rosen
Steve Shultz
SorayaJan
Virginia Carraway Stark
Heather Stevens
Katie Woodzick

View original

Bliss-ter

Raw nerves
rubbed wrong
agony
a hummed-out song
this friction
inflaming
so much better
than fiction
burn
second degree
pain as
a pedigree
wounded deep
craving salt
dislocated
memories
hurts so good
blisters clarify
two more lines
to hide my crime

Rx Ad Vice

Don’t want/need pharmaceuticals
I can die when I die
on my own time
for my own crimes
I don’t need help
to correct course
right horse
I will ride boat
when tides are right
I will pay the ferryman
when dues are due
I will live my life
and die when true

I will not swallow that kind of advertised vice

Heads Nod

My mind
is aligned
w/ exit sign

I’m falling asleep
while everyone else’s
heads nod
I’m laying sod
while you pretend
to be god
I’m sound asleep
while you dream sweet things

drum machine
is streaming

wires in your ceiling
cease all feeling
in my feet
my self-esteem

provocative
and talkative
and lacking any
intellect

I cannot betray even the thought of you

First Aid Station

String me up
till I can’t breathe
pull my teeth
comforting
motherly
deity
come to me
come to me early
steal my words
steal my faith
I got it
I got it made
so long as
I know where is
the first aid station
direct me to
my best intentions
I should probably stop here
this is my stop
I should probably get off
here

I’m slipping through the cracks
through the pores in my skin

I would gladly host your panic attack
in exchange for my apathy