Category: Poetry

Matthew Feinstein: Two Fraternity Poems for Bad Survivalist

Portrait of Pledge Being Left in the Middle of Nowhere on Shrooms It’s Fall. The Pledge Master has me blindfoldedin his car. We are going somewhere. A place I hopethat’s not too hard for my mother to find. But I canalready feel the rumble of winding roads beneath me,and although I’m mostly blind, specks ofmoonlight…
Ricky Ray Poem: “The Dream” for Haunted Passages

In which the monster emerged sludgehearted and fond of hares.And triplets were born of a wish that blew itself apart.Candleflame ignored the wind.Her face, thirty years on ice,the one my waking mind can’t find in the crowd.Water in the streets so high you could swim.I was a woman.I was a wolf. I could hear hunger…
Fred Gerhard: Four Poems for Haunted Passages

Chill November On a chill November afternoonmemory of colorclings to skylike pitch dark twigs alivereaching for a summer sunlong gone a poorly dreamt expanseof slate fogpearly mistfar away and departingour livesour graves leaves space forautumn hymns in thelow quiet tonethat falling breezesknowand hum where we would gobefore we let goand throwour shivering limbs aliveto the…
Flavor Town USA: Five Capsicum Poems by Steven Ray Smith

Tabasco I repeatI was not named afterthat vinegary tincture you sluice upon your cackleberries You and I have not metbut let me say to you tooit was named after meAnd let me give you some advice Copyright patent and trademarkyour quirky relish and the cut of your compact jibbefore the patrons and partygoersand those with…
Two Poems by Ori Fienberg, Originally Published in Vol. 10

Novelty Trade Treaties There’s no way to make a profit on a callfor international unity, no way to solve adistribution function without a point of sale;you have to learn to accept, you have tolearn to just say, thank you to thank you;it’s an ill-wind that blows no ships into portto deliver this gentle tyranny of…
Flavor Town USA: Three Poems by Jennifer Martelli

We baked pearls made of denture material in a blueberry pie —Efferdent Commercial The first satisfaction is the fork breaking the flaky lattice crust. No, I’ve misremembered this commercial: the first satisfaction is this: the fork digs deep into the purple fruit filling, doesn’t break the dough, fishes deep down into the pie, the berries,…
Bad Survivalist: “there is this instrument called a gnomon,” a poem by Ryan Rowland

—for Nicky J There is some tool called a gnomon I guessit measures shadowsSprayed by the sun I’ll tell you this now I know nothingOf tools I speak more of shadows shitYou can’t measure. Ask her for the truth theseShadows from the sun and only the oneSun strong enough to make an orchidpossible at Home…
“greetings from televillage”: A Poem for Haunted Passages by Ariel Clark-Semyck

I how the quiver of the camera makes it all seem so mine—my body flying over the bonnie green fields of the isle. my body sitting in the sodden rowboat of the old ferryman, the folds of his salty skin purling as he gabs on about last year’s failed crop. my body is a foot-soldier…
Six Poems by Jessica Lawson

seasonal employment the sun sets at 4:36pm today how does early dark affect you solstice is a different day every year how does early dark affect you they have made some cutbacks in the sun department a constant temporary position a temporary constant loss how does early dark affect you solstice has been declared a…