Category: New Work

Poetry: Richard Meier

* A negative construct, the tree in the sun through a tree, the building in they built the building for its space, the space we can still see before exterior walls and windows and a roof. Is it a building…

Poetry: Sandra Lim

CLIFFS Words are afraid up here. The rapture and the terrifying exposure. Strange birds roosting, a human voice shouting a world’s-end shout. Snow hurries to the meeting, wanting to cover the waking in my body. I could fill up the…

Poetry: Todd Melicker

* rendezvous: sincerely, (please insert your dna sequence here) so named i’m coming aware of the whole, what that all parts belong       & so does water                   coaxed forth that’s what i wanted to say/tell you               the animals the animals               relieve…

Poetry: Matthew Cooperman

Still: Pioneer Craft: a means of moving forward by focused attention to presence in physical form Object: Shangri La, Valhalla, Elysium, Cibola, Shambhala, Arcadia, Utopia, Pleasantville, Dick Dale, Moby Dick, Ojai, Daisen, Asphodel (that greeny flower) Expression: Why, you’ve got…

Poetry: Sandra Doller

LIKE SUGAR LIKE                      I can spell anesthesiologist but not marvelously                     —blimp—           Meaningful meaning           +           meaningless meaning           ‘Everyone’ is always an exaggeration The story of a student who walked onto the field a man and left a woman The story…

Poetry: Grace Grafton

“Language is how ghosts enter the world” — Anne Micheals Curiosity steeps her in inquisitive tea, questions like burrs or the way the flesh of a cling peach won’t release the pit. She knows: it’s her love affair with the…

Poetry: Tobey Kaplan

* color first a thousand kids first a thousand kids’ energy musing in late dark theatres of lonely houses her leg leans heavy my arm draped casually on her thigh not a day goes by without my considering her love…

Poetry: Sandra Stone

The Sadness Of Penmanship by Sandra Stone Another day’s climate. Tympani on the glass, an amazement of notes cascading. Javelins are my rain, little assassins that pierce the flesh. Someone’s nominal neighbor is inscribing his lawn with arabesques. His machine…

Poetry: Chris Tysh

from Molloy, The Flip Side (a translation in verse of Beckett’s novel) by Chris Tysh On the other side of the ledger Inspection reveals a loose Spring in the sum total, a hole Where my possessions had been Hat, bicycle,…