Tag: Poetry

Two Original Poems: Sarah Fawn Montgomery

This Autistic Puts on Her Mask Because the world wantsa woman smiling louder than her voice, scripts rehearsedbecause the only answer to How are you? is Finewhich is a lie like making eye contact with the centerof someone’s forehead, manufacturing smalltalk and big gestures about the world and weather,whether or not you actually care, autistic…
New Haunted Passages Poetry: “Remember When Exciting” by Daniel Edward Moore

was a murder on the outskirts of town and two hundred jawsdropped quickly to the floor as water troughs on Main Streetfilled with human tears. Horses became tender like kittensyou could ride. Sparrows sang on crime scene tape in aminor key and barns became suspicious of holding morethan hay. Known for their love of God…
The Future Has Poetry: “Water Tastes Like Metal” by David Anson Lee

The tap tastes like the factory that promised a hundred jobsand delivered a century of residue.We boil and filter and boil againuntil only the sediment remembers the river. My neighbor grows potatoes in a tub because the soil refused apologies.His hands are callused maps of a season gone wrong.Children rinse candy in bottled water and…
New for Side A: Haibun Postcard by Judson Evans

Pisgah Inn, Milepost 408.6, Blue Ridge Parkway,199 Hemphill Knob Rd., North CarolinaNov.12, 1997 Dear Numerologists, Drop a race horse, a bullfrog, or a flea from a high place,calculate the damage mass makes squared. Massive rockslides across Blue Ridge Parkway around milepost #408.Equations of chaos can’t quarry from stable sums. Steeproad cuts, planes of schist—shear stress,…
New Side A Haibun Postcard: Judson Evans

Pittsburgh, PA – Warhol Museum,Aug. 17, 1997 Dear Connoisseurs and Collectors— Surprised to discover Warhol had his very own Museum-mausoleum. That he came from a real place, thought maybe hewas a breech birth from a Campbell’s “Tomato Rice” soup can.Always hated the way rice grains looked bloody. I didn’t know he’dbeen shot again and again:…
New Poem for Flavor Town USA: “Abundance” by Caleb Hill

IA can of pumpkin squats besidethe Korean bowl given by my aunt, the poor stone potwhere my culinary brainwaves come to rest, adoptedfor concoctions like this morning’s. My favoritelong-handled teaspoon rushes through the roundsof unlidded ingredients: crumbled feta, pickled olives, peppers, fish,cinnamon and sesame, allspice and onions,split peas shoehorned into cornbread, mozzarella melted inwith mounds…
Original Haibun Postcard for Side A: Judson Evans

Mütter Museum of the College of Physicians19 South 22St., Philadelphia,Aug. 25, 1997 Dear Indivisible Duo, I offer you a peak into this carnival tent/cabinet of curiosities,skull by skull: #28: Protestant soldier, suicide by gunshot wound to heart (because of weariness of life) North Hungary #30: Painter, suicide by potassium cyanide (because grief after abandonment by…
Bad Survivalist: Two Poems by Simon Ravenscroft

Emergence / upon clifftop Ever emerging into further con-vergences of perforated selfhood,one alights occasionally on this orthat compelling instant, truth shimmeringin the open apparently … for a time,for a time … before scuttling away againinto the hills to hide beneath the trees.Reflecting back later, nothing isever so convincing as it wasthe first time, back when…
New Prose Poem: “I read that butterflies are losing their color, becoming more muted to blend into their deforested habitats” by Vikki C.

And now they’re sending a search party out looking for wonder. It worries me—are they using the correct searchlight? Will I be missed again? These concerns keep happening—like the continuous tense of fall—bloody maples dredging an exhausted world, where the line between hidden and lost is sodden. Like my mother complaining she could never find…