Category: Poetry
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Bad Survivalist: Three Poems by Jiwon Choi
Judith Becomes An Eager Iris I woke up this morningthinking I would take good careof the daybut come through it with a dress teemingwith the cells and particulate matter of the soldierI had to kill.It’s because I followed the bird of lustinto a mazethe size of a queen-sized bedwhere I became trapped between bear skinand…
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New Side A Poem: “In Praise of Point Break in 15 Parts” by Drevlow
In Praise of Point Break in 15 Parts 1. Gary Busey says, Surf’s up, ace.Says, Welcome to SeaWorld, kid.Says, Just act stoned and ask questions.Gary Busey has been a cop in LA for twenty-two years.And in those twenty-two years, two big things have changed.The air got dirty and the sex got clean, he says.Drum roll…
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New Poetry for Side A: “Is Gone/Are Back” by Maria Fischer
Is Gone/Are Back Credit reports Are gone. Calorie counting Is gone. The addictions counselor Is gone. The scrip for clomipramine Is gone. Poor cell phone reception Is gone. Flying commercial Is gone. Spoilers Are gone. Capitalism Is gone. Jellyfish Are back. And not the crafted kind, crocheted out of discarded plastic bags, extensions left behind…
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Flavor Town USA Poetry: “Our Very First Shared Fig Newton, 1986” by Zebulon Huset
A buried poem* of Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “First Fig” My early cookie preference was for classics—Oreo, Chips Ahoy, the exotic Nutter Butterfor special occasions that don’t requirecandle or cake. All day at summer campfending off “Indian” burns and wet williesat the same time, mealtimes the only respitefor both of us, it seemed. Our otherwiseempty…
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“What the body will say when you’re dead”: A New Side A Poem by Jeff King
What the body will say when you’re dead He swallowed pills abilify aristada atenolol benzodiazepine buspar chantix divalproex sodium lithium paxil warfarin zoloft zyprexa for thoughts that didn’t make sense for fixing a body He lived smoking a cigarette on the porch in the street in a portrait with ferns a portrait of placid water …
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“Story”: Side A Prose Poetry by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
Story I say I don’t want to tell my story but it’s all I want to talk about. The husbands, lovers, one-night-stands, the sweet weekend-artists, I have to rehash them, have to describe that room in Antwerp that looked out on the Zoo—red walls and an hourly rate, across the place from where the railway…
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Haunted Passages: Three Poems by Rita Mookerjee
Pyre The ghost vibrates with the furyof someone who was flayed alivebut I like to pretend his death wasdignified like the silent drop ofa tiger lily petal no witnesses noscreams when he is awake henever stops working relentlessand viscous like mercury and herises from a soft grave to chop uphickory logs even though it takeshours…
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Flavor Town USA Poetry: “How We Make Do” by Ginger Ayla
My grandma said in the Depression they ate specks of marrow from the bone, in the Depression they’d wear out every man-made material to deterioration, so determined they were to love things to death. I am familiar with the economics of diminishing, have added more until it became less, squandered like backs and necks of…

