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

Excerpt: Michalle Gould

resurrection_party_feature

From Resurrection Party Tonight, the Clouds Tonight, the clouds Are tired of flying Above the earth Like hostages, Suspended by chains They long for rest They long for the day When the ground Will accept them They will sleep On its surface In pools of puddled white In their place The heavens will be strewn … Continue reading

Poem: Tamer Mostafa

mcgrawst

McGaw Street He wanted to go back out to the night, feel the December draft through the bandage wrapped around his forehead. It was from the hole in the window, the passenger’s side that allowed the sharp air to freeze our screams inside the forest green Ford Taurus and its outdated police package: broken antenna, … Continue reading

Excerpt: Kathleen Brewin Lewis

fluent_in_rivers_feature

From Fluent in Rivers Eggshell The morning is a chiffon scarf. A child steps out into soft light, a spotted egg cupped in his hands. I rest my palm on the place where his bowed head meets his slim neck. Sometimes this is prophecy, sometimes recollection. To touch him this way is always a blessing. … Continue reading

Double Dose Poem: Lauren Dixon

vousalle

vous : allé the truth lies tell in those birdshot veins wrecked sand in the lungs vous mourez? nous mourons? mourning spreads on the kitchen counter like ashes from lung-collapsed cigarettes and willful fucks cemented in bed vous gardez sueur vivant there it was swifting matches against the palm – vous – a vox? non. … Continue reading

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