Poem: Laurin Becker Macios

ourselvesweremade

Our Selves Were Made for Something and We Searched for It When we found ourselves there it was March and quiet with snow. Flakes scented like sliced apple lazed down—gathered, melted on a striped cat’s fur. Mountains loomed like hangnails, hurt a little. Each moment was a textbook full of how. We found a brown … Continue reading

Poem: Dana Hubanks

skunk_cabbage

Skunk Cabbage I can smell the skunk cabbage blooming in the roadside ditches moldy remnants of last year’s crops forgotten, wait to be tilled under as reeking wreckage. Women break their own backs pounding blunt tools into the earth in rhythmic prayer to forsaken soil redeeming the redeemer. After three months of thick time pouring … Continue reading

Poem: David L. White

thelimitsofname

The Limits of Name “But above and beyond there’s still one name left over, And that is the name that you never will guess; The name that no human research can discover— But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.” —T. S. Eliot I was named when I was born, codified in a moment … Continue reading

Poem: Ferenc Apagyi

awkward

Awkward-sphere she always wakes up before me the thread-esque night breaks away in her eyes the naked silhouettes of her enmesh in the geometry of the room objects recoil because of the sudden touch of pheromones watching in a pubescent disgust as she is gathering up her clothes and bends her steps toward the bathroom … Continue reading

Poem: Desirée Jung

probabilities

Probabilities The thickness of the diesel oil on my skin. If washed, hands will change color, become blue. The gas station has reprints of perfect bodies. In the concrete sidewalks, the water runs through the cracks. Sometimes the watchman paces like a cat, making irking sounds. Forty-five minutes is a long time in animal years. … Continue reading

Poem: Sandra Kolankiewicz

roundupready

Round Up Ready The black and white long-haired cat in the tree believes he’s a sparrow. At least that’s what my neighbor tells me this morning, and that his hens aren’t laying in their coop, their feed rich but producing nothing in them. His herbicide jug with its efficient pump sits on his back porch … Continue reading

Mid-Week Feature: Sarah Hayes

Ground Up

from Heart of Everything That Is Go Inside a Stone Go inside a stone hands wedged to the wrist into the flake of it the flake: inviting slash of waterways and cold fractures, fissures and weaknesses this map of eons coming undone (slowly reforming) Go inside a stone finger tips gripping awkwardly in small pockets, … Continue reading

Poem: John Grey

interiors

Interiors of Our Brief Glimpses intimacy around here is a condition; a necessary evenness — the marrow is dark specks of the heart — a flame consuming its own happiness — into my blood and nerve and into that entangling tide of soil, into the hermetic circle of how light somewhere left the moon hanging … Continue reading

Excerpt: Lisa Mangini

birdwatching_feature

From Bird Watching at the End of the World Bird Watching at the End of the World (ii) It starts with a certain stillness — a wing held up at a right angle, head cocked as if the grackle is watching me back. It is hard to see clearly from here, but perhaps he holds … Continue reading

Poem: Mark Goad

moon_shine_still

The Moon is Shining Still When everything is wonderful and strange on a softly-summer evening, moon shining bright on the tall ghosted trees, it may seem that you have wasted your life on small-hearted desires. If you had stood tall, you might have touched the moon and electrified, shocked the world with your presence. But … Continue reading

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