Category: New Work

Poetry: Nathan Parker

*The Journey Backafter Tolkien, Shelley, Nelson, Eastwood, Housman, Justice, Bishop Cradling my drunken brotherIn my broken arms I trackedThe last cloud on earth afterDeciding the last movie lackedCowboys. True, the river clipsWere something to behold.(write it!)Michael I love you and…

Poetry: Rob Schlegel

* from ICEBLINK She neither arrives nor departsbut modifies constant Cove’s pliable shore Never tethered is itso permanent to regard itselfimmortal Bury she may his boneswithin the ossuary Crab-apple or buried sun She questions the one part of every soundpining…

Poetry: Caroline Crumpacker

September 26: 90 Degrees and RisingSallow afternoon of girls around the perimeterRemember she preferred the silent playground incipient identities:she preferred the lesser intercourses the classic picnic table framing herresistance as social critique.Remember she preferred offering, a body on hers, the…

Poetry: James Belflower

from FRIEND OF MIES VAN DER ROHEIn Canaan night, tent lanterns along both clineswomen and children on one, the shuddering river between and on an othermy brother’s hand turns our gifton another side— That night Jacob waited alone. “Let me…

Poetry: Christina Mengert

* Rest             each time I think of you, you cease to be                         -Jacques Roubaud A bird, a stone – the body is overturned. We lay it down and call it “bolts of cloth.” Also “lands of unlikeness.” Like a phonograph, it…

Poetry: Roger Snell

* Journal II After G.A. Shapes of the unsaid puncture the ordinary— “astonished by daylight” from exile, inexile derivations ofinbeing— would efface thisprelude for the sun its solidarity—

Poetry: Eric Baus

* FERMENTED OPALS I looked down to sustain the camera’s hide. I have never seen an Ibis mirror. The house rained. The beds echoed. A dead oud’s resin cloned the first sentence. An apple in the closet developed the scene.…

Poetry: Karen Garthe

* Standout      in LA rain This was To Be’s Fantasticbut packed in the querulous use Ancestor of Narcissus amassingmirrors to compass A self of magic blond and airnest, spark TwixtNarcissus

Poetry: Patrick Pritchett

* The Real Real Whoever sees the real charges the eye with a flare. Keeps evening kneeling, ablue-smoked air stripped of its string of lights given as the park to the people and where they move there, from path topath,…