by The Poet Darkling I. Loss nighttime I sleep in shadows of sweat and urine. the center square of my quilt shines yellow and wet. I never hear uncle come. I can’t. his shape blocks the moon sliver. I keep my eyes shut tight. he lifts me up and away….
by Thomas Griffin These wet delicate fingers across my face a song barely remembered as I mumble along everything else ever wanted everything thought worthwhile food, friends, acclaim, wealth, work gone and nothing but this melody matters, nothing but wet cheeks Oh! How could I have thought I could live…
by John Timothy Robinson They called my sonnet a disregard of form, prefer instead work that preserves, revives a beauty now which makes a reader worn of meter, rhyme, what day it was, the time. We don’t though often talk that way, emphatic to modulate a voice, almost of air….
by The Poet Darkling It’s always been about the tea. Black. Sweet. Dollop of curdled milk. Everyone has a shop. and they know how you like it by reading your face. You take yours creamy strong sweet. In a back room, salty little fishes bubble in a cauldron over hot…
by Eva-Maria Sher There is a moment when a familiar shape feels foreign, when your pretty porcelain cup spills from its shelf to reveal its substance when the lute—startled resonates with a new song, when you realize the captive bird in its cage by the window holds the key to…
by Eva-Maria Sher Come Sleep Let’s ride Your dream-sheep Let’s glide Knee-deep Into tiramisu. I swim and lap in Lovely goo You wrap yourself In midnight blue. Come Sleep Come, keep me Company, you Fickle bumblebee You tease! Come soon I’ll bring you wings While Moon On silver strings Weaves…
by Michael H. Brownstein When I pass to the nether world, my dearest, watch for me in the rain. Do not go outside in gentle dress— I will be the acid from hammer fist clouds. When the weather changes, be sure to salt the walkway as you go. I will…
by Sudeep Adhikari the wet triangles, sliding down the slant of liquid maroons they look at me, with the eyes of the black-hole love i can’t see what is in there, expect for the blood of nothingness, an absence batshit drunk pegged against the sine waves of wooden erections, carefully…
by Lisa Harris A cell interconnects. Sand dollars, starfish and sea urchins, tube footed burrowers—cousins all— traveling slowly, blurred and muted. Echinodermata, Echinozoa, Echinoidea— anciently called sea hedgehogs. These spiny round algae eaters try to avoid sea otters, starfish, wolf eels, and triggerfish, predators all. . In 1891, Hans Driesch experimented…
by Amy Covel We’re pale white Tonight Like ghosts Haunting the graves Of the places We’ve stayed Forced to conform To the order To which we were born You and I are bound Forever Two ghosts together Our untimely deaths Stole away our breaths But didn’t deliver us From the…