Of Nature
Category: Poetry
Poetry: Bruce Bagnell
Balanced I am not symmetrical my right arm reaches past the left – I think more than I take my left ball is heavier than my age scars are not balanced on skin or me.
Poetry: Rebecca Wolff
Romance Sometimes even now I get this feeling riding in the back of a small truck, covered wagon, ruched aperture to night sky, repurposed army truck, 2 am and I’m bouncing with a half dozen other hitchhikers, transient, youthful, with…
Poetry: Sueyeun Juliette Lee
The Quiet Sun Just as I was taught to kneel, the sun became foreign to me. How to speak after a different daylight emerges? Name that black chamber, its seamless, quiescent surface. Speak after an epoch, an apocalypse—find again that…
Poetry: Dan Beachy-Quick
You Must Speak if Echo is Who You Love I’m just one of many suitors, maybe the least, maybe the one who speaks the smallest words—“yes” and “no”— as if each were a knob in the air that turned returns…
Poetry: Andrew Zawacki
OTHEREARTHLY SONNET Sashes open, a blouse flutters white Diffraction artifacts Morning in the Place des Vosges—perlite Sunlight baccarats the garden’s 10-blade diaphragm—, you Tipple through the blanched arcades a Banshee beauty Parlor curler Left plugged in too long
Poetry: Elizabeth Block
Illness of the Text The shadows, only of trees. The flourishing wind in obeisance made the wall, on, for, and darkened moment in the pool, which reflected and suspected light itself. Birds, or flying a made spot soft, slowly flutter,…
Poetry: Lane Falcon
Twelve Turns 1. “What do you want to do with me?” While slicing an eggplant, phone clamped to my ear: “What you’ll let me.” In a parking lot, in a cone of orange light: “Anything.” 2. Each night he leaves…
Poetry: Shane Book
SECURITY OF THE FIRST WORLD This place I have not been. But alone. Other possibilities perhaps and even if I am of two sliding partitions: the trees’ spacing, tidal flats punctured by tubular posts, children—I cannot arrive at such days,
Poetry: Rob Wilson
from Holy Red River, Flow Without exchanging words we reached a place where a narrow stream came gushing from the woods (its reddish water still runs fear through me!)… — Dante, Canto XIV, Inferno The other shore is right here,…