Tag Archive: Poetry

Grand Prix — Paige Elizabeth Wajda

After Mario Kart 1: You are rocket start on a Peach Beach, bump bitches you pass by, banana slipstream, revving and swerving; mushroom drift. 2: You are cool contender, transforming into Bullet Bill, avoiding bob-omb blasts,… Continue reading

Ekphraseis — Bradley J. Fest

for Taylor Baldwin’s The Oracle [W]hen I look at that of which I may regard myself as the imaginary possessor, I fix upon what would give me pleasure in my average moments. .… Continue reading

Queen Conch — Amy Schmitz

I thought I was done with fish tired of the pull and scrape but if I walk through a fishery with a man who is still my husband just seven years older than… Continue reading

Sinead O’Connor is Suicidal and Living in New Jersey — Christina M. Rau

A lot of people live in New Jersey, New York, the tri-State area, and many of them are fine, and by fine, I mean getting by quite all right, eating meals, working the… Continue reading

Passing Train Whistle — Joseph Somoza

While the fire is snapping and roaring, I should stay out here with the grackles who dropped in this morning to investigate the bird feeder. I should stay to watch the leaves fall… Continue reading

Lambs — Bruce Meyer

As we came up the sideroad, they could have been mistaken by morning rain for tufts of cloud left on a knoll, white as heaven, if heaven exists, standing there to practice a… Continue reading

Thoughts — Terry Savoie

“the object speaks, it induces us, vaguely, to think”                                                   Roland Barthes I’ve been thinking how grass thinks & how the privet hedge       thinks & how our sewage flowing beneath the street thinks as… Continue reading

Incidental — Sarah Jamack

you could find yourself in cold rain on a hot night where raindrops, rain boots, and streetlights combine in the puddles where you take your longest strides — the water shakes, shatters, breaks… Continue reading

Like Rain — Bill Abbott

She rested her arm on the window ledge, stared out the rain-splattered window at the wet streets below, and wondered aloud how anyone could be persuaded to go out on a day like… Continue reading

Musical Egg — William Doreski

Soft-shelled, softer than a turtle’s, it hums in a nest of rags and yarn. You have to humble yourself to hear it. You have to kneel and cup an ear to catch the… Continue reading

Exhibit at Chile’s Museum of Memory and Human Rights — Michelle M. Tokarczyk

You think the shards are all the same: Look again. Glass shards in a room of glass. Orienting north, south. Reflecting bodies darker, lighter. Death can’t erase every difference. Glass shards illuminate our… Continue reading

Floating Away — Holly Day

I put the tiny boat in the water and watch it float away. Somewhere, someday, someone will pull it out of the water, either intact or as a sodden, soggy newspaper mess, find… Continue reading

Special Exhibit (at Ragnar Kjartansson’s Video Installation, “The Visitors”) — Ellen Austin-Li

I have been on a string of so many days hung low. The truth is I am often tired of being alive, of daylight streaming through the translucent glass of my body, my… Continue reading

Mud Baths, Vulcano — Abigail Cloud

Where fat doesn’t matter, or bones, bodies ideal and folded into the murk, skins unfamiliar under the sludge patted into wrinkles, over scars and freckles. Take the healing of it, years stripped down… Continue reading

From the Ayotzinapa Investigation Report — Lisa López Smith

*** Lisa López Smith lives and writes from her home in central Mexico. When she’s not wrangling goats or rescue dogs or kids, you can probably find her riding her bike or painting.… Continue reading

Park Row — Tom Laichas

Park Row is an alley. Beneath the day-lit zenith, visibility is ten miles. If my city vanished, I’d see a quarter million acres: bare ocean, alluvial plain. But Park Row is an alley,… Continue reading

Hairline — Carrie Greenlaw

Lots of things come and go—the last bowl from our wedding set cracked but did not shatter. The other seven spit shards at the dump, still pyrex white and hopeful where the flowered… Continue reading

My mom cried on the floor because she was afraid of the police shooting me dead (after Charles Kinsey) — Marcus Lindsey

My mom cried on the floor because she was afraid of the police shooting me dead. My mom cried on the floor because she was afraid of the police shooting me My mom… Continue reading

2 Poems — Lisa Masé

What’s Worth Keeping What if it didn’t matter that your parents left to spend two years in Somalia, ripped you from Ferrara to live with estranged grandparents in Kansas? What would remain of… Continue reading

A Remarkable Wreck — Kevin Casey

As we noticed in the streets a handbill headed, “Death! one hundred and forty-five lives lost at Cohasset,” we decided to go by way of Cohasset.              … Continue reading