Tag: Poetry

Two Poems for Haunted Passages by Annah Browning

On Reading the Unsolved Mysteries I no longer want to see the world. I want to hold a bouquet of aliens in my hand like violets and stare into their black eyes. I want to get dizzy falling in love with the probe. I want to be the compass that swings and swings, never resting anywhere. There is no grove I am setting my eyes toward, no monolith I believe. Stones stand under stars because that is…
Haunted Passages Poem: “Tangerine Dream” by Michael Sikkema

Michael Sikkema is a poet. He has a book forthcoming from Trembling Pillow Press, a book forthcoming from Alien Buddha Press, and a chapbook of sound poems and collages fresh out from Low Frequency Press. He enjoys correspondence about owl communication, sound studies, and raising pleasantly feral children at Michael.Sikkema@gmail.com. Image: healthclubnu.nl
Two Poems for Flavor Town USA by Avery Gregurich

I Keep Guzzling Bug Juice, Thirsty As I Am I can never leave the Casey’s convenience store without myBug Juice. I just gotta have that sport cap thrill. It’s always gotthe Vitamin C I’ll need, and less sugar than apple juice. There’seven a Straw’ Nana flavor to boot! Some like it hot. Others drinkonly Whistl’…
Excerpt from SCARLET: Three Glitched Still Lives by Francesco Levato

*Ed.’s Note: click images to view larger sizes. SCARLET is a digital visual/poetic meditation on the fractured state of psyche induced by extended social isolation under COVID-19 lockdown. The digital/visual poems are created through erasure of the novel The Scarlet Plague collaged with glitched imagery from everyday life in lockdown. The titles of poems in…
Bad Survivalist Poetry: “where the space ends” by Anthony Santulli

even maps know that point of view is a lifeless music—that the next sense to evolve will only create further desire to escape from experience at intermission, the utterance of terms we barely notice (these things happen in the cracks, their particular hiss) …
From Vol. 9: “In My Dreams There’s No One in the Maternity Ward,” a poem by Tessa Livingstone

I keep having dreams they take her from mewhen I hadn’t finished. I wanted her more. I wander halls in search of nurses. Babies.Their open mouths. Their frantic chantings. Nothing stirs here—only the peahenwho roosts in tall open trees, scratches at leaf litter, preens brown plumage. A listless planet in orbit,gravitating in and out of…
From Vol. 9: “from The Self Is Being Thought,” poetry by Amie Zimmerman

III. presented with the frameworkof fevers, faith, moonlight and such other violencean obvious definition of self I amnot ready to acceptI, predictably, am violentin my plunge to sleep greedy the dried-up bird bath I steady refuseto clean out and fillthe mock orangethat either smells like grape Kool-Aidor jasmine tea depending on how soberyou think I…
From Vol. 9: “birthday poem” by Patrick Kindig

today there are marigoldsblooming in the street& i mean this literally.there are marigolds risingfrom the seam betweenthe curb & the pavement,twelve of them, marigoldsappearing unexpectedlywhere no marigolds shouldbe. today there are marigoldsblooming in the street & iam a little bit older, a littlemore likely to diewithout warning. i am older& more likely to die withoutwarning…
Three Poems by Anat Zecharia (Translated by Tsipi Keller) from Vol. 9

Lust Nothing is more useless than Godhe doesn’t stroke my foreheaddoesn’t stretch a moist tongueto lustfully lick the bloodfrom every high hill and every mountain peakand under every green tree.[1]Most of the time I divine the innerparts of his body(his sharp resinous odor riseslike the odor of sex)find him in the blue reflecting from the…