One 一 Trading in “Cosmic Opulence” for “One?” My grandfather did just that by dropping the name given to him by his father in favor of “Emulating One,” the name he composed for himself, when he snipped off his braided…
Category: Poetry
Poetry: Renee Ashley
[because I am the shore I want to be the sea]
Poetry: Molly Bendall
Spectacle His rumble, the way he tears at the carrion, then leaves a hive for listening. Tusks bang and glimmer in the sunlight. Can’t stoop to interpretation. I press my mascaraed face to the fence and see my relation— he’s mangey,…
Poetry: Lisa Fishman
from 24 Pages The frog kite flips over itself makes a loop of itself Recall tying a chair to a kite & sitting there for it to fly Migration patterns askew in the hot March blue herons also pass over…
Poetry: Brian Mornar
from FIREBIRD NOTEBOOK (2) May 27 The sky is dotted with bright stars. As I just wrote the word “star,” I almost forgot what a star is. They become bright as the eyes adjust to the dark. I am not used to this kind of…
Poetry: Noah Eli Gordon
For Expression Sing a song of utterance. I mutter to you. Sing a song of expression. —Gertrude Stein For the feel in my palm of an apple fresh from the market Against the viscous transparent skin of marketing For the…
Poetry: Susan Terris
SOMETIMES A HORSE IS NOT A HORSE The Marais—where we are—but in another era, before chic. And in the weed-choked square, a crowd near a creature, legs loping in air while his grounded body writhes. Pressing forward, we hear the…
Poetry: Sara Renee Marshall
from THE LANDSCAPES WERE IN MY ARMS Sometimes an avenue itself is the masterpiece. In France gold arrests the street like a sequin wheeling its shine around. Form and light translated by how heavily they close in on the eye.…
Poetry: pablo lopez
from NUMBERS: A Poem 420. Countless detail. 420. Some danger we’re in. 421. Days outside. And generic anvil. 422. If true. Days slitter the skin. 421. Scars splattered. The face. 421. Historic detail.
Poetry: Diana Khoi Nguyen
Souvenirs from a Future World Evening worked quickly as if sewing a ghost. The cry of a doorframe holding nothing, Light cut through. Two truant hands gripped stucco, Peppercorns dropped from trees, The dapple-gray rider smelled the whale washed up…