by Chanchal Kumar Sometimes, everything begins to fascinate me:The slow passage of nightacross the sky, the blur of traffic,the snare of my smartphone. What I want is a way out of presentness. I want to leave & hope to keep going—tho I don’t know if I want to get out of bedto do that.
by Chanchal Kumar Sometimes, everything begins to fascinate me:The slow passage of nightacross the sky, the blur of traffic,the snare of my smartphone. What I want is a way out of presentness. I want to leave & hope to keep going—tho I don’t know if I want to get out of bedto do that.
by DeWitt Clinton What can we do, this late in life?Peeling a grape isn’t quite so charming,Even writing about peeling a grape,Well, it’s not the same as back then.But there’s so much back then, and ifWe do go back, we’ll likely make it allUp, as who still remembers the beach,The…
by Claudia Wysocky I keep thinkingabout the time in high schoolwhen you drewmea map of the city,I still have it somewhere.It was so easyto get lostin a place where all the treeslook the same.And nowevery time I seea missing persons posterstapled to a pole,all I can think isthat could have…
by Jacob R. Moses In the aftermath of terrorOur bodies served asMiddle fingers to each otherIn lieu of fighting systems Somewhere down the lineWe lost our humanity underGuises of piety and logicRiddled with gaping holes Amid the disregard for lifeWe know the true modelsOf tyranny lie within thoseScapegoat hunting warriors…
by Chris Litsey One said that poems were like music Our ancestors sang into our souls. The other was captivated by the tendrilsOf fate she found herself bound within. He was obsessed too, Obsessive to a fault, Finding faults in the failings of frail cards, Guided by the incessant turnings of midnight readings. She…
by Anna Dodson August was quiet this year.My evening chamomile seepedoutside, the figs lappedthe sky like pea blossom and lemon juice.The glass, a white diamondrefracting all that quiet on the gloom. I miss you most of all, my darling.Heat fogged the window like two lovers in the backseat,jazz flute on…
by Andrew Furst i am not wanting light. but i warm to it, moving with the situations towards the angels i’ve been looking for. equaling the coastline and the sparkling worldliness of sunsets the new year tries to rebuild me as springtime meadows are constructing summer out of the long…
by Chris Litsey My outlines were drawn in with horse hoovesAnd fleur-de-lis stabbings, tinging the linesWith a ruddy, rusty coloring that reminds meOf my blurred, wavy reflection of the wide,Wild river I called home, but the effectsOf the Commonwealth never seeped pastThe bold lines that could be made outFrom farther…
by Anna Dodson A part of me thinks I loved you mostthat summer. Amid sickness and in health,we took the furthest parking spot,then plundered empty grocery aisles. Each with our own mini-shopping cartto parallel-play in hoodies and shorts,we blocked an entire row. You said,“Aren’t we being so domestic?” You stood…
by Andrew Furst it strikes me how people who want to stay the same have to change so much. so much, that the tides seem to move with them, a busy kind of inertia. i’ve seen them happy, i’m sure of it. cleaning their gutters and mowing their lawns. savoring…