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…
Category: New Work
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: Finalists of Omnidawn’s Poetry Contest
* New poetry from the five finalists of Omnidawn’s Poetry Contest: Ethan Saul Bull, Michael Tod Edgerton, Carolyn Hembree, Brandon Shimoda, Jordan Windholz.
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,…
Poetry: Julie Doxsee
* GIANT ATTRACTION WITH CREATURES Everyone’s toothis a little machine that can’t starfish itselfto the lip it loves. The way you speakhits the ceiling & stays there laryngitic, a blue noisephotoshopped clean I can’t stand so vertical. What broughtthis image…
Poetry: Reginald Shepherd
* Somewhere Off the Coast of Cyprus Gods don’t get what they want, they stumble,falter and halt at the frontiers of fulfillment, puzzledthat power isn’t always pleasure. They wantto know what know is (I have known, I knew, I know,…
Poetry: Edward Smallfield
* autumn in New York A blur at this tempo a memo often mingled ignores with pain the store- fronts lit with & rowing against the river the going & coming a blur: finger- prints on the keys on the…