Tag: Poetry

  • Poetry: Four Sonnets by Brendan Lorber

    Poetry: Four Sonnets by Brendan Lorber

    I believe in science and also Who gets closer the further they get?         Everyone         believes in science and alsowhy time calls itself a spell        The magic of returning to morning consciousnessis that we do        when the reason we do        is super unavailable       until much later       and is often the answer      a spider trapped in larger spider’s…

  • Original Poem: “A Message to Meg, from the Dead of Night” by Joe O’Brien

    Original Poem: “A Message to Meg, from the Dead of Night” by Joe O’Brien

    I’m texting you this anachronisticpainting of our favorite TV characterto remind us what memories feel like I’m following this feed where they mash up old Simpsons gagswith other old Simpsons gags and then mash those up with Sopranos quotesso I might wring every last droplet of joy that I canfrom whatever I can still wrap…

  • Flavor Town USA Poetry: “Cravings,” an original sonnet by Molly McGrane

    Flavor Town USA Poetry: “Cravings,” an original sonnet by Molly McGrane

    Torn from the ashes we haveold women come to remind us that skinny looks good in dresses but not onfaces. Die with a naked mole rat visage or die of diabetes with a #7 double.In junior high I ate cheese until grease dripped with my tears down my chins. Retirement will hide the animalistic tendencies…

  • Three Original Poems by Lauren Ireland for Haunted Passages

    Three Original Poems by Lauren Ireland for Haunted Passages

    Serotonin Mountain They will call you bravebut what they mean is scary.Falling down the mountainis so much harder than clawing up.Summiting is not a verb I recognize.You must not change your life.When you change your lifeyou ruin someone else’s.You are a rockslide of terror.One look backward andthey will be where you are. I am a…

  • Haunted Passages Poetry: “Disrupted” by Ansley Clark

    Haunted Passages Poetry: “Disrupted” by Ansley Clark

    That is not a windowbut a circle cut in concrete    the desire to consume  smoldering like an expensive holidaywhat I have been for a long time becomes real as I walk through glass and metal landscapes  the taste of badness in my throat    several bags filled with receipts to avoid the building’s shadows which…

  • “Ashenfolk”: William Lessard Interviews Joseph Mosconi + 6 Exclusive Poems

    “Ashenfolk”: William Lessard Interviews Joseph Mosconi + 6 Exclusive Poems

    Joseph Mosconi is a writer, editor, and curator based in Los Angeles. A former Google computational linguist, he is the executive director of the Poetic Research Bureau (PRB), a hybrid arts space that hosts weekly readings, performances, and films by today’s most progressive poets and artists. Mosconi is also a co-founder and programmer at 2220…

  • Side A Material Collaboration: “Sleep Takes More and More of Us” by Philip Lindsey & Matt McBride

    Side A Material Collaboration: “Sleep Takes More and More of Us” by Philip Lindsey & Matt McBride

    Sleep Takes More and More of Us Mini-interview with Philip Lindsey & Matt McBride HFR: Can you share a moment that has shaped you as collaborators (or continues to)? PL: Matt and I met in my studio one evening over a couple of beers to talk about ideas, art, and a way into the project.…

  • Poetry: “Ode to Broken Birthdays and an Empty High Noon Can” by Samantha Cross

    Poetry: “Ode to Broken Birthdays and an Empty High Noon Can” by Samantha Cross

    I don’t know if it was the combined birthday partiesWith the Daytona 500 for Alex and me as children,Or being told to shut up when I playedMy saxophone that fateful night in sixth grade.Maybe it was the standardized testing that took placeThe first week of March in Connecticut,Where the governorFailed to recognize the importanceOf in-class…

  • Haunted Passages: “Pursued by a Line of Three Ducks,” a poem by Gregory Crosby

    Haunted Passages: “Pursued by a Line of Three Ducks,” a poem by Gregory Crosby

    One day, you will have no choice but to walk,the punctured tire of these times behind youon a road brimming with sunlight & dust. The clarity of movement, followed byexhaustion. The clarity of exhaustion.Your feet hurt, & you can’t hear the river. The only question is whether you area refugee or a tourist. Or dead.They…