Tag: Poetry

Haunted Passages: Two Poems by LM Brimmer

Un-Imagined Mother n. • I dreamt a baby again • the morning after my empty womb evolved through the limitless contraction • Mother ? I can’t. Mother I can’t. • just your painful, irreverant abdomen, halfling eye half cortex • accustomed to the gut of a wolf • grieflonging has grayed me • Mother of…
Natalie Marino: Two Poems for Haunted Passages

If I Were a King I could believe in God. I would wish the grapefruitheld in my handcould turn into a little sun. I would refuse to seethat everything born before me was already gold,that even wealth can’t stop a daughter from cryingat the sight of a hardened rose. If I were a king,I wouldn’t…
Three Original Prose Poems by Michael Robins

On Solitude What can only be a perfect phrase, hurried on the back of a receipt, subsequently caught in the wind & flown forever away. Your eyes are not what they were, imperfect & especially in the morning before gravity once more proves us little. First to sit in the reglazed tub, its waters rise…
Two Poems for Side A: Jonathan Dubow

The Unwound The unwoundable wound will, willing, willing.The olive trees bull dozed (the unknowable being en acted), someone else’s mother with drawing, drawn out, writhing, writing, engraved. Midrash A comparison is necessary here.Possession, according to R’ Ahabic, suggests difficult,distant,without. According to R’ Aschre it suggests the hole,mask (shadow),and (what I thought) the name of another. Mini-interview…
“Ending’s Etiquette” by Lucy M. Logsdon: Poetry for Side A

Ending’s Etiquette First, I notice fine lines parenthesizingmy once full lips. I google wrinkles.Learn that over ten on one’s facemeans give the fuck up. A strong whitestreak appears in my bangs; I cut themoff. They return, spread into forbidden zones, smooth as scouringpads. Age spots my hands, forearms,chest, cheeks, thighs. At parties,I no longer command…
New Poetry for Bad Survivalist: “when i say i still think of you in august” by Cate Latimer

i mean that when i saw that truck full of chickens on highway 5, feathers grazing yellow lines, i wished on their mangled bodies and white wings pinned like fallen gods to the road. you taught me to do that. you, who left streaks of lipstick on my dashboard and playing cards in my center…
New Poetry by Matthew Johnson: “My Front Yard in Summer”

The Moon felt like a tingly blur on my skin, And as it gradually slid down my shoulder through my forearm,I tried to smack at it like it was a marsh mosquito, Or an arcade game of whack-a-mole. We soft tossed Wiffle balls when the sun went down,And the whistle of the breeze passing through the hollow,…
Paul Ilechko: Three Poems for Bad Survivalist

Truck Stop The sky was a grid of varying colorsnone of which were visible to the naked eyebut the man vaping in the cab of an F-150knew instinctively that he was parkedbelow a quadrant of the darkest magentathe handle clicked as a door swung openand a body hauled itselfinto the passenger seattattoos glowing fluorescent under…
New for Side A: Three Poems from WHAT by Robert Kocik

proto-anything Sunrise light day sunset night dark. Sharpness of shape-less white against blue. Unbearability of ticking. Grievance blight, life changing quiet, the way of thingswith/out us. Another antler chandelier. Sculptor’s field of marvels overgrown. Blooms of jellyfishclogging aircraft carrier’s cooling system. Nail polish next to erythromycin. ‘Composting’… a wordfor earth’s reaction to our works our…