J. Mae Barizo

LIBERA ME I. Pain resurfaced, exiting out of my arms. In the dream was the face of your father but not my father. In that way I knew he had taken you with him. Music, a tortuous path. Therefore grief is ascribed to the body. A force fluctuating over time. We believe that when abandoned, [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Tina Brown Celona

  ORPHEUS RESTORED. PART TWO.   To write this poem I had to get drunk and also high because it was so scary and I needed to take leave of my senses a little and also I had some ice tea. I am probably ignoring some red flags as I’m being sucked into the black [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Julia Cohen

  ATTACHED TO THE SWAN COMES THE WATER   i. Are you willing to wake me with your baby? To trust I won’t cut your luscious bangs as you rest? My two children we send to the school best fitting personalities of orange sheets, newspapers smeared with coffee & glitter-recycling. Tin cans emptied of black-eyed [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Jimmie Cumbie

  WHITE SPACE (PDF FEATURE) Next→ Jimmie Cumbie lives on the north side of Chicago. His poems have appeared in The Spoon River Poetry Review, The CavenKerry Press, Swink, The Edison Review, and Spout among others.

Print Friendly

Read more...

Les Gottesman

FRONTAL A misquote dilates ghost-red and hat-black the Kremlin of impulse. On the spiky chance the thighs are real I am their appetite for polyandry, Dada, booze and spaghetti, the unseeable apartments in a dream of hallways.         CRIB Soupy river of alt-sex as is mocked by terrapins and pangolins and melancholy [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Edward Mayes

  NOT NOW NOR NEVER   Not that you can hold us to it but then               E-roads didn’t exist until recently. Our fingernails feel Veneered on our fingers, sinewy and locked, our hearts awaiting              Eruptions of light shooting out of our heads: Rags for the rag traders. Who’s been gathering up              Neophytes and acolytes, [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Jamie Quatro

  SACRAMENT That winter, I practiced saying goodbye to you sliding a finger inside myself Placing it—knuckle crease to fingertip—down the center of my tongue. I wanted to know myself—know the woman you might have known. Not sweet As I would have liked. A chemical quality I might have asked you about, later. That room [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Andrew Seguin

THE LESSER SYSTEMS               On this day when the clocks follow the concentric               tempo of a top and the verb to be               has worn off its costume so the tongue can pick a place   [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

D. E. Steward

  Iuno Eighteenth-century Vienna in winter, carting and carriage horses steaming under their blankets, Stephansdom’s bells clean on the hour, ice floe on the fast Danube, the dry heat of ceramic stoves, their exhaust a brown inversion layer between the city and moon Tonight, here, the Leipzig Quartet performs Mozart’s C Major, K. 465, Dissonance, [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Jon Thompson

SHARES (Harlan County, USA) In the long descent,/ darkness/ the one true compass. The world is not one; there are worlds within worlds/ what we know of the world of light is less than the weight of a soul slipping from an earth-pressed body. We have lost many a word/ lost many a word/ & [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Sam White

CURRENTS Stay, says the moonlight to the snail I would if I could, says its trail glistening. Beat it, says the lake to the eels. Will do, say the eels, into waveform of voices of fisherman grumbling. Don’t cry, says the nest to the lake. I’m not, says the lake weeping Styrofoam. Giddyap, says the [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

George Witte

REVENANTS Hair hennaed to a martial tease, left arm and leg dead weight, brain seared by errant surgery and strokes you mangle social niceties, harangue off key, laugh late at jokes old friends find inappropriate. Your garden flourishes and sours untended, rampant in neglect. Rose arbors buckle under thorns; the Women’s Club no longer tours. [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Matthew Zapruder

  YOUR STORY dear old friend are you angry why won’t you write me beloved teacher is what I called you in my mind mild morning california depressing light uncertainly standing between the rooms I ask myself why such anger I walk downtown busy worrying all day I feel I am sure a man is [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Franz Wright

  WINTER BRANCHES AS TERMINAL SYMPTOMS Black crayons blindly scribbling, identical name diamond-etched in the blue mirror of oxygen; glass branch conducting, waving at you and only you. Window window in the wall, what’s that crossing the sky without sound? Lone bomber with plenty of fuel but no country to return to. So, a few of the not so meek [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Roberto Tejada

  ELEVATOR INVENTION … Language-learner fearful of error as to pronounce the Americans as partway back from the dead devoid of the primary sources, phrase in semicircle, who could tell by the handwork, lever left by the glass-piece, radiance by flexible curve and grommet. Safebox at the stroke of twelve, and in the Georgian corridors [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Mathias Svalina

  CHILD Step one: Obtain a newly born human baby. Step two: Every morning tell it it is magnificent. Every night tell it it is an abomination. Repeat this process every day until the child moves out of your house. Step three: Proceed with the usual child-things: love, uniforms, etc. Step four: The full sum [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Rodney Nelson

DITTY the falcons had come in March along with high water it did not want to be spring whatever it had been the water was not leaving but the falcons were here and every turn of wing said die to a pigeon the cold earth and its layer had to give up to sun but [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Joseph Massey

  WRACK ZONE It’s the ocean sounding out a panic I otherwise couldn’t pronounce. Ouroboric vowel fixed to a low sky’s loop of variable white. • Decayed rope of bull-head kelp distends from tide- tamped sand. Mind mirrors that surface, shape, at the moment I imagine if I thought far enough I’d leave my face. [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Joshua Mckinney

  INVASION Strides the warrior forth from a GameStop, bearing a blast shield with a blazon gules; its coded constellations, bullet-peened, embed the absent meaning of the war. The event escapes, but KryonMYnuTs rules: 30 kills: 4 deaths and no air strikes intervened. The kill-cam’s slow-mo captures every death, creates an image of purpose as [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...

Reb Livingston

REPORT FROM BEHIND THE CASTLE To deal with the King, one must go behind the curtain in the castle—for the best interest of everything official. This way the people won’t notice. So much. They will not care to notice. Am I about to marry to the King? There are ladies here. Ladies mounting one another. [...]

Print Friendly

Read more...