Tag: Poetry

Poetry by Trina Burke: “Argument Against the Earthy Pigments”

Our family motto is I want to hold my son and have him talk at me with the cuteness of dumping beer-drowned slugs. Pericarditis. Someone put a cork in the aorta. It sounds like a valentine. The apples are at that stage of unblemished ripeness that is perfect and I don’t have to worry about…
Two Poems by Matt Muth

Celebration Lane Be large o heart hug the sumof this world close: its shiny skin its Chinesefamilies stuffing fries into their kidsits Tesla bulbs its bindis tinselwinking in Fendi shades all of us a tight and liquid macraméof living well the light show at the IMAXa sentimental crumple zone the percussionsection’s toms the bands betweenthe…
Excerpt from Gimme the Pretty: Sonnets, poetry by Devon Wootten

What hath might & what hath lament—prolly.Reader, banality’s preferable, i.e., bad faith &/or dialectic,intolerable ambiguity. Reader, take the easy way,mankind &Christendom. * Reader, I’d elsewhere’d it—donesensed & re-sensed,made full & made whole.Reader,them’s the most-dead.Them’s the foolishness.[Breathing]T’ave found want.T’ave found what’s lack & t’ave fasted on’t—O, well-nigh incarnate,stay with me.O, hold-out,O, cut of mine, what’s lent…
Three Poems by Noah Eli Gordon

After Words There were Those who Were there And then There were Those who Made there Their own In Praise of the Passive Voice LeisureTo enjoy the soundAnd dimensionOf rainfall Rather than beingRushed To the conclusion Regardlessof how conciseIt may be As the rain Is fallingThat the rain falls Is what IYour humble subjectIs precisely…
Six Poems by Peter Longofono

Seismic Enthusiast You can tell humans by their flocking. They call them clearings when they get there. You can tell it timberline. Become optional, an erosive classic intercedes. Nothing now qualifies your hermetic stare-down. You, plucking grissom out the ruly. They, triangulating your knock forest, sparse Switz, traipsing up to populate your zero. Wresting cheesewheels…
Three Hybrid Pieces: Marlin M. Jenkins

At Camp This Summer Hussein runs down the rocky hill behind the tennis court in flip flops (though he is not wearing socks with his flip flops as Mahmoud, his cousin, is—white ones with red lint clinging to the toes). Mahmoud: “Wallah I swear to God, Hussein, if you hit it out of bounds one…
Poetry Collaboration: “Archeology as Prayer” by Amy Ash & Callista Buchen

Let us breathe the dust that was once bone, how we taste the sweat, the steps. Wekneel before the altar of night, stars carved into pattern. It is one of those things, we say. You hear us sift through shadow and dust. We try to tell you what we need, what we want:artifact and ruin,…
Mary Flanagan: Five Poems

Enough You know what I want to have with you? A You Can Do No Wrong Love It might not be the same as We’ve Weathered Many StormsLove Or I’m Sick Can You Share My PainLove Or Why Did You Cheat On MeLove OrWe Lost The BabyLove Rather can we tune our radios To another…
Two Poems: Lauren Loftis

Old Issaquah mine entrance, once sealed, is slowly reopening1 Machine sludge and methane gas soaking into rock, cannot be what they mean when they say history is beneath us. The base of my hometown: timber, white rot splinter, a rain-swelled sponge in collapse. They say if you fall in there’s not an emergency crew in…