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featured poets & artists


seth tosi mcmillan

Seth Tosi McMillan is the editor and webmanager of SpaceBreather, a reasonably new online arts and literary journal that takes submissions internationally. The journal has featured such artists as Lyn Lifshin, Duane Locke, John Sweet, Itzhak Ben-Arieh, and James Sebor. Seth has been published in various web and print journals, and owns a yoga studio in Waterville, Maine. He is also a photographer


eensy weensy

eensy weensy spider
crawled up the water spout
down came the pain
and washed mother out
came the son and bent in all his rage
eensy weensy spider
curled up on the floor

eensy weensy
drew compunction out of his neighbor's daughter
and this pulled her father over
who talked with his mother
she had a sock replete
with nickels to abuse with
her arms were so taffy

eensy weensy spider
hid crutches under his bed
and old cast
from the broken wrist
he new he'd visit
the fort and defend
his country from england

he did
and was crushed
when his mamma smoked her life
ignored him his bugs clothing
the slug with a breast
he didn't know his own dirt
and stench
he saved america


the thoughts the body is naked

with glass the foot
the requirement in walking
further toward purple mailboxes
is what tenderness is
when you can't do it is endurance

and it always is until you go
as you're going to go
it's always endurance
interest in the glass foot

the kiss is intelligent
taken and given
the intense leak
of insight
whether popular
or tube parters

your bum wasn't popular
but she loved the entirety
to the best
and you washed the plates
sometimes and turned the mugs
on rim side
over the tea towel

thomas edison
invented the lightbulb
for nudity so you can
see the woman and she
can see you and the cat


free rein

liberation is eating while on toilet seat
you can't do this and not feel free
it's cold and intestines
are warm it's february

how you hate the doorknob
to be touched
"I can't go out"
the merciless children
don't let them pervade
o there they are with their tiny heads

you are a sculpture
flying away
they tarry
there are words on your toes
they say "bang"


the chisel soul of madness

they crucify us for our love
then love their own mammas
hand in soap
leg pained from joy
students walking in trees
how they are smart
bringing it home
o know their young joy

they came out of the vault
with their nucleus
o they're just the same
pigtails and spikes
faces scored
they don't know
how contact works
don't impact the orthodox
don't be physical

the real boys
are behind the greatest wall

no, that's the chinese
their ambitions
lie safe to succeed
whatever's preceding

there they are again
those bookbusters
and shoes
invading with their shovels
rupturing old panoply
don't buy their bananas
unless they get
to the message

the veterans
who sustained a similar cycle
howled like them
and had as much wit
they wrote it down for them
so that the neophytes
would remember

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