Tag: Poetry

Haunted Passages Poetry: “Ode to the Beginning of Things Between Us” by Max Lasky

Love is a beetle in the brainsays my horoscope today, whichmakes me think of my wife’schildhood nickname, Beetle, a playon her middle name, Betul, Turkish for virgin, or pure, a nameshe abandoned by the wayside aftersplitting hearts with wedge and sledgehammer, the way experience accrues around firewoodlike dead leaves in the fenced in cornerof our…
Poetry for Flavor Town USA: “Ode to Oil” by Sarah A. Etlinger

To the hot oil sizzling in the pan as I stand hereand make dinner, chicken cutlets, fish cakes, latkes. To the oil that burns and chars the panso I have to scrub it clean, scour black scars, and dump the remainsin an old coffee can kept under the sink like my mother did,to its scent…
“Bruce Lee Does the Cha Cha with My Grandmother in the Seventh Level of the Underworld,” a Haunted Passages poem by Vincent Antonio Rendoni

Often, I think of a young Lee Jun-Fan—just a student at the University of Washington—in the days before he met his wife, entering his prime. I see him swinging his elbows, pushing out hipswith Abuela, also new, out of place& foreign to Seattle at the time. Together, they move up and downthe smoke-filled parlor above…
New Poetry for Flavor Town USA: “Coordinates: Kool-Aid Arctic Grapes” by Avery Gregurich

A slight delicacy: supermarket green grapes covered with Kool-Aid powder, frozen solid, a real “Welcome to Wisconsin” moment where otherwise broke down supper clubs mark the towns, or where they once were. Flavor is preference, but Strawberry Kiwi is best. I had them in Madison the week they’d just culled seventy-two geese and donated their…
New Poetry for Haunted Passages: “Night Terrors” by Mike Bagwell

The trick is to return from somewhereyou haven’t been. This time,I am climbing the buildingon top of the building. I’m ready now. Or, my reflection is.When the night gets sharp enough,it is feminine. It whittles itselfinto underwater caverns. The recipe calls for mirror shardsand a full jar of honey to make it easier.It won’t be…
Original Poem by Caitlin Grace McDonnell: “Dear Wolf”

Dear Wolf, It’s been seven years. What happened in those woods is a story that keeps changing. Sometimes you are very large and toothsome. Sometimes you are a man in uniform. Sometimes you are my grandmother; sometimes, you are me, but smaller. Wolf, I can still see you behind that tree, poking out like a…
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…
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…
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…