"we are deep in the vernacular
of borderless zones
consumed by passing over

directed through the radio waves

we no longer touch each other
we engage like drifting ash
disappears on the skin"

 

from Drift by Alan Jude Moore

Desperate cities, borders, collisions, filth, bees, werewolves, and cigarette smoke.

The new issue of Moloch pulses as a living organism.   It has a sharp bite and an aftertaste of ash and strawberries. Perhaps not suited to the delicate palate.

While we did not seek a theme the pieces submitted seem to form a natural unity.  The art and writing paints a modern, albeit dirty, landscape with smokers lurking in cities and forests, drowning ladies, car collisions and the ever impending fear that one may be eaten by a werewolf.

Nick Laird once wrote that a book of poetry should be read as a poem in itself. I do hope you find this journal achieves that ideal and that you can view it not only as a collection of individual pieces, but as a unified piece of art.