Sarah A. Etlinger

Sarah A. Etlinger RehearsalThe sky is smoky milk: it will rain later.I’m thinking about the moonand its tradition of memorywhile we rehearse for evening, for summer’s long duskswhen the grass hums in a green fermatathat stays as long as we wantand the air is filled...

Howie Good

Howie Good Do-It-Yourself Destruction People kept coming into my dead parents’ apartment to collect stuff. One took away some sort of boat. No one seemed to particularly care if cities were burning. A woman from down the hall started stroking my face. I asked her to...

Dion Loubser

Dion Loubser     Lighthouse   You know when a big storm hits The lighthouse actually shifts I have measured it The engineers tell me it is impossible But not everything in this world Is explained by science I offered myself up once When it was too much...

Paul Ilechko

Paul Ilechko   Preparing for War   Imagine a beach in Florida     the sun     blazing from above     with a slight hint of breeze from the ocean     a typical lazy day     but suddenly     everyone in sight is a soldier in uniform every flag is black...

Stephen Anderson

Stephen Anderson   The Swerve   Things just work out that way sometimes. Jarring and jagged cut-you-up things that spring up from the least expected places: The sharp-toothed jackal that comes in the shadows of the day to take away someone you love, the...

Fatima Ijaz

Fatima Ijaz SILENT SCREAM   When dissent like lightning enters the frail limbs of the night, in the uproar of ferocious leonine howls in the midnight turns of the heart – that has finally prepared itself to laugh ceaselessly, I sit by your side, loneliness, and...

Sandra Kolankiewicz

Sandra Kolankiewicz   Communique #10   Once a year there are              epic tides so low along the jagged shore            line that cliffs and stony bottoms are        exposed, touched by air only during the            first full moon of spring in a sea of...

Mari-Carmen Marin

Mari-Carmen Marin         Consumed by Pain   These past days I have been thinking of death. The image of the skull and crossbones has settled on my forehead between my furrowed eyebrows, a window I don’t want to open. Yet I stand before the tree of...

Milton P. Ehrich

Milton P. Ehrich SILHOUETTES ON A WALL   During twilight hours I walk around the park and see silhouettes on my handball wall where I once played with Father and friends and see everyone I loved who also loved me voiceless without smiles they send a silent...

C.G. Nelson

C.G. Nelson Insomnia   You lay in bed. You were there, Watching you clock creep Closer to morning.   You reached out across The bed, hoping To grab onto something.   She is gone, of course. She wasn’t there To begin with.   It’s time to begin...

Carol Lipszyc

Carol Lipszyc Boy on Stoop (from a photograph by Helen Levitt, 1940)   boy on cement stoop leans against bricks of charcoal grey and mud brown   elbow perched on knee face in profile exposed in a flash of white shadow of dirt on the nape of his neck  ...

Michael Goldman

Poets Name     It’s not going anywhere and it’s too big  to see all at once   so we examine one small area or use a compass or take a picture   anything to make us feel better about being small   but that doesn’t change reality, it just...

Kate LeDrew

Kate LeDrew dear kate (december 31, 2018),   this year go everywhere do everything especially if it’s free don’t cover your face when you laugh make eye contact with strangers tell everyone you love you love them tell everyone you can’t forgive you forgive them...

Ron Smith

Ron Smith The Ancrene Wisse   The introduction of a person’s hand                               into your cell is a penetration.            You may not cross your legs, affect                   a lisp, arch your eyebrows with moistened fingers. You may own...

Erica Bernheim

Erica Bernheim Amplexus 1980: Sunshine Skyway Bridge     Kermit, how you have misled me with your human clothing and gentle manners. For you, every body of water can become a quaint fishing village   at dusk or dawn. Into fog and towards accidents, I followed...

Hunter Gagnon

Hunter Gagnon Quarantine poem #78 fisherman in the virus hours   Shot off on the shiny iron of it all I wanted was to sit at the bar with my brother and talk about the end, but Dragged off in the trench of it The trough of grey water The white light everywhere...

Pamela Corbett

Pamela Corbett Like A Line in the Sand                   The seam between           this life and the next          is tenuous, threadbare.             I know, for I was there—                                                                                       ...

J. Adams Lagana

J. Adams Lagana Regarding Matthew   He bore our family traits, stubbornness, and eyes as blue as the Atlantic in September. I thought we were a loving bunch, but we were angry instead.    Spare me your half-hearted compliments, he once shouted towards his...

Tammy Stone Takahashi

Tammy Stone Takahashi 1. This is you and ilooking up at the mooncontemplating our smallness This is the mooncontemplating nothingreserving her beauty for us This is the space betweenwhere holy words are fraught with their unmaking.     2.   When we...

Jenny Santellano

Jenny Santellano   heroine   he has his claws in you again ripping through your skin attempting to access your core   faith in nothing no logic no sanity— a blend of pale promises and powerless points of view   stay with me on those visceral nights...