Tag: Poetry

Collaborative Poetry: “In a Late Stage” by Tony Mancus & CL Bledsoe

In a Late Stage It’s not a question of outrunningthe bear; it’s a questionof perfectly seasoning the salmon. A man with no hair and a bagfull of herbs is slightly lessdangerous than a clutch of piranha. The equation starts with a soundunlike thunder, someone screamingnumbers into a small bowl. Arrange them just right, and you’ll…
Haunted Passages: Three Hypnophobia Poems by Ellie White

Hypnophobia[1] #17 In the basement of the Children’s Museum in Indianapolis, there is a carousel. Or at least, there used to be. As I descend into the first room, the music starts, and it is that music, only darker. The cheery notes all flattened out and squeaking, a mouse under a cat’s paw. It is…
Three Disaster Movies from The Future: Poems by Lucas Pingel

Disaster Movie At the edge of the locust storm our toes Make a quiet music a prayer for broken Wings go further than the natural cadence A new word to signal an unplanned spring We remember it as holy another way Our knuckles speak to one another Walls once smooth and white pages Once smooth…
Ryan Mills: “Poem”

Then his pancakes come and I’m likePlease leave the flowers—and really, after his question(“have you ripped a big one lately?”)I see he’s a one-trick pony.A tiny glass vase centers our table Then his pancakes come and I’m likeHow could anybody masturbate to Slaughterhouse-Five?My Aunt the Grandmanever put on a belt herself, how awkward!the dancing. Then…
“When It Was Over,” a Bad Survivalist poem by Tyler Dillow

It was like coffee spilling on my shoes. The insects: beetles, ants, mosquitos. You—repeating—and flies on my feet, in my ears, on my feet. It was the buzzing that filled me. Mayflies, the color of your skin. Caterpillars, the color of your skin. Their eyes, the color of your skin. My name—you kept saying it—over…
Poetry: Three EVP Recording Sessions by Lauren Brazeal Garza

EVP Recording Session #1: The Original Poltergeist Recalls “I moseyed to the lifeless party late, buried my shock under my skirts just like a garter. —Wait. I never moved or carried anything. No clothing in the great beyond. It’s tailored: each unpleasant underworldly task. Our assignment was forgetting all that’s physical. No body danced, I…
Poetry by Alexa Mal: “Everything You Need to Know about Cooking with Blood”

friends, it’s gotten so practical the glass thumbs our feetwarmly & we dancelike academicswith arms at the sky endlessly shifting (fidgetous)& thundered toward a national monument won’t you deconstruct my second headpull out the dead leavesthe crochet needles [sad girl petitions to be mayor of chai lattes] I’m just collecting best friends I’mstill…
“The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living; or, Selfies,” a poem by Jeff Alessandrelli

When asked what he would saveIf his house was on fireJohn Cocteau replied, “The fire.”A convicted arsonist,The work that Cocteau admiredWas of the variety that revealed itself immediatelyAnd then changed such a revealOver time.Fire’s hot, burns things.Each flame understandsAn illusory worldWhere everything isThat’s the caseAnd nothing isEver hidden.Conjecture is confusing:How the thought of what might…
Three Poems by Kim Kyung Ju (Translated by Jake Levine)

Hear the Mackerel Cry In a deep place grown flesh is filled to the brim. If you see the mackerel grill, at first, the mackerel’s lips burst. Ahhhh . . . and pop. Sprinkling from the mouth, black fictions flow freely. Like the one bullet in a thousand that weeps in the flame, the ocean…