Featured Writing

A pair of hands hold up a black book.

A Statement on Religion

By James Croal Jackson Perhaps divinity is in devotion– pages of textover thousands of years, eternal ramblingin the clockwork ticking the days to etch instone the wings I’d searched away, blindfaith in running water, erosion of the endlessnights I’d stay awake to eke out meaning.

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Poetry Posts

A pair of hands hold up a black book.

A Statement on Religion

By James Croal Jackson Perhaps divinity is in devotion– pages of textover thousands of years, eternal ramblingin the clockwork ticking the days to etch instone the wings I’d searched away, blindfaith in running water, erosion of the endlessnights I’d stay awake to eke out meaning.

read more...

A seagull looking directly ahead while standing in front of a window surrounded by brick.

Who We Are

By Jimmy Pappas We are bats at the mercy of young boysthrowing baseballs high into the nightsky under a streetlight causing us to chaseafter the movement only to swerve awayat the last second still searching for moths. & We are magicians’ helpersprivy to the secretsbut never findingthe adulation we crave….

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The lower half of a figure stands in shallow ocean waters.

Memory with Water

By Jessie Raymundo For now let’s talk about sinkingcities, said my motherwho carries a pair of Neptunesin her eyes & paints about phantoms in Philippine poetry. Gravity is whenthe psychiatrist assessed you& heard a heart murmur like rain.In an instant, you were in the sea: a merman sticking his headabove…

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A small wooden piece with a comma.

Proofreading

By James Croal Jackson I know        I know    if I can understand you    I am an asshole         but I want you to do well              I want you to write in the sunbarefoot on brick with…

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A starfish washed up on the beach

Mementos

By Jen Drociak I’ve never been much of oneto collect or save mementos;intact slipper shells,angel wings,or even the elusive sea starwashed upon the rocky shore. a perfectly-rounded stonesmoothed by the pummeling ocean wavesor a piece of sea glass, once keeping time in a bottle. Nor even a flower, some may…

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Two blank sticky notes on a desk next to a computer keyboard and earphones.

The Things We Owe Each Other

By Jimmy Pappas (This poem contains suicide.) Everyone owed me a call.That’s what she wrote,her suicide note of sortsposted on a sticky padattached to a boxof Christmas presentsshe never mailed out. That’s how it all works,isn’t it? We owe each otherthings: the book we borrowedlong ago that we kept holding…

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A line of cars waiting in traffic.

Tuesday

By James Croal Jackson we again drink through tuesdayon a rooftop around the corner ofwhere we grew up watching trafficnearly crash into every other carat rush hour there’s no room forinterpretation at 6 pm everyonecomes home from work crankythis fucked economy of wakingto pay bills a sunrise for the rich

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Fire Breather

By Olivia L. Casey My scales too heavy now for me to rise.Scales jabbed tightly in my many achesBraided up in agony, I lie. I lift a wing and loose a weakened cryFor I have found a body too weak to wakeThe heavy scales I carry at sunrise. Anxious eyes…

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a person's arm raises a megaphone into the gray city sky

We, Projections

By Seth Pierce (This poem contains reference to self-harm.) Mr. and Mrs. Mad’sMalcontent attitude is a lucid illusion of personal contemptA cover-up to an elusive getaway for attentionPlaying into the conviction of self-deprivation Starving hot-cold souls of artists and philosophers refusing to share anything but pain, In order to gain anything…

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neon lit email icon over black background

Days of the Dead

By Eva-Maria Sher Every morning another linkin the chain mailof desperate news Ever greater numbersof souls departing in the armsof strangers Our hearts paralyzedour minds exhausted—can’tcomprehend their magnitude Dear Onethe maravillas I wantedto offer for your soul Succumbedto an unexpectedfrost

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