genre: Poetry

LITTLE MUSHROOM

LITTLE MUSHROOM

By Stuart Friebert   

Or Schwammerl. What you’d have called Schubert, standing over his 1.5 meters, if you were lucky enough to be his friend. If you were Augie Bank’s friend & Jewish, had broken your nose when tackling him in a Sherman Park sandlot game, he’d call you FNK in public, but slip you a sketch of your mug, captioned Flat-Nose-Kike, when… Read more »


Barbara de la Cuesta

ON BECOMING VIRTUAL

By Barbara de la Cuesta   

I don’t comb my hair  or paint my waif face  or clothe my scant body  in matching colors.    Who sees them now?    I do care for this body  I wash it, and oil it for comfort,  eat seeds and nuts  and greens.    For it contains my words  That I still send, more… Read more »


YOU THINK IT’S LOVE, BUT IT’S CANNIBALISM

By Vanesa Pacheco   

a poem from The Cannibal’s Cookbook A part of you believes comme ci comme ça applies to you. It begins kind of noticeable and kind of painless like when you peel the skin away from a sunburn. It’s nourishing swallowing slivers of your cheek to give back to yourself in the so-so times after your… Read more »


Olivia

Moonstruck – m4w (Downtown Boston, MA)

By Olivia Thomes   

Missed Connection Ad: Cher is a babe; that hair bounces more than a rubber ball, and hey! who knew Nicholas Cage could look good without a hand? I have two, ten healthy fingers — can only find one woody on me! and I’m no Ronny. You look at me in the office like I’m Johnny, but… Read more »


library

library

By Fred Marchant   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


The Peace Shelf

The Peace Shelf

By Fred Marchant   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Sapphire Needle

Sapphire Needle

By Sean Singer   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Road

Road

By Sean Singer   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Drift

Drift

By Dilruba Ahmed   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Of Akreo and Ursus

Of Akreo and Ursus

By Ewa Chrusciel   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Wasps

Wasps

By Sascha Feinstein   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Damp Wood

Damp Wood

By Sascha Feinstein   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Elderberry Mistress

Elderberry Mistress

By Christine Jones   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Woodblock Prints

Woodblock Prints

By Shawn Fawson   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Paul’s Realization

Paul’s Realization

By Barbara Siegel Carlson   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Lived To

Lived To

By Emma Bolden   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


My Enemy

My Enemy

By Jeff Friedman   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Deeds

Deeds

By Jeff Friedman   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


The Vault

The Vault

By Andrés Cerpa   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Prestidigitation

Prestidigitation

By Georgia A. Popoff   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Solar Return

Solar Return

By Georgia A. Popoff   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


in the kitchen

in the kitchen

By Natasha Sajé   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


Plantation Aubade

Plantation Aubade

By Artress Bethany White   

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue.


After Life in Two Parts

After Life in Two Parts

By Casey Zella Andrews   

in purgatory there are only beds         with blue sheets no, the walls are white                        the bathroom floors, red tile, water    slick. in purgatory. you are watching.          close your eyes. there is nothing you can do.                there is always something you can do. no the walls are white,                        the bathroom floors red. tile water… Read more »


How Far, How Far

How Far, How Far

By Elena Croitoru   

Our train moved faster until our country was a blue fold in the horizon. Passengers remained still as our carriage fell off the dining table. You smiled with lips that had dried as you queued in the snow for monthly rations. That day, you brought back the carcass of a bird, laid it on the… Read more »


Cachexia of Time

Cachexia of Time

By Annaliese Jakimides   

His heart punched me. Now, not just the random heart strokes that everyone else is talking about or was talking about yesterday but the infinitesimal strokes that are what I most held onto after his last breath. I cannot begin to tell you the last breath—deep gutted scent of what couldn’t be eaten. He so… Read more »


Nostalgia

Nostalgia

By Judith Terzi   

Like I’m waiting for kismet. Maktoub. Waiting for a number, a letter––cryptic for stage, grade. How many nodes did she twist away? How many, how many… Tell me to focus on healing. Friends bring guavas, mini pumpkins, t-shirts, pens, soup. The house is a garden: five white orchids, purple tulips, yellow roses, irises. Red bromeliad… Read more »


The Drowning House

The Drowning House

By John Sibley Williams   

The rain is a hood       pulled over the world. Our neighbor’s house, vanishes.         & its windows through which we watch things             undress. The plastic deer neck-bent        as if chewing up the lawn go the way of other deer,        of the wolves,        the arroyo turned creek again.                     & beyond… Read more »


Citizens

Citizens

By Latorial Faison   

  circa January 20, 2009 Some were perched on the limbs Of D.C. trees to get a glimpse of it, History being made, once again, In the middle of so much black & white, To hear Aretha spin her rhythm with Our blues into a hymn where hymns Had never been made, up close. All… Read more »


Envisioning the Life, Post-Parole, of my Father’s Murderer

Envisioning the Life, Post-Parole, of my Father’s Murderer

By Richard Michelson   

  Rainbows exist, the nurse explains, not in the troposphere, but only on the viewer’s retina. Then, staring at her iPhone as if it housed time, or regret, she excuses herself. Alone till my pupils dilate and the doctor arrives, I have leisure to ponder how doubt can enter the eye socket of the body… Read more »


Envoi :  at the Five Spot Café

Envoi : at the Five Spot Café

By M. G. Stephens   

  Visions of Thelonious Sphere Monk at The club piano, playing “Monk’s Dream” Or “Green Chimneys” or “Well You Needn’t,” Man oh man, those were great nights to be there When the musical genius in the fedora Showed up four hours after he was due to play, But none of the customers seemed to mind… Read more »


Abecedarian

Abecedarian

By Judith Terzi   

Lines in italics were pronounced by Secretary of State Mike Pompeo during a speech outlining U.S. demands for a new Iran nuclear accord. America is sort of tripping down the alphabet. B for balk, ban, bigotry, bully. C for Children separated from their parents, moms & Dads detained, demonized, deported. Expired visa sole crime of… Read more »


The Gospel According to Here

The Gospel According to Here

By John Sibley Williams   

Where the edges of homes run together an incision of alley just wide enough for bodies to pass without scraping the paint off the bricks. A flowerless plot of raised earth meant for greener things. If those are strays praying wildly with their teeth, it’s not to the moon. I don’t think we’d recognize that… Read more »


The Complication of Multiple Lives

The Complication of Multiple Lives

By Jennifer Boyden   

My father is in bed half a country away telling my mom how to make chicken from the sun. His cancer opens a shadow hand in his brain and where it darkens, the world slides sideways. He looks through the window by his bed into the 1940s. He thinks it’s TV and he tells me… Read more »


Crushed

Crushed

By Quintin Collins   

Toine has a new stereo. Mystikal grumbles “Shake ya ass, but watch yo self. Shake ya ass” into the street. A squirrel crushed by a car, baking on the pavement— you have a stick in hand to prod the roadkill, but Chris passes grayscale porn printouts, hot sauce stained. You can’t see much because of… Read more »


Poem for a Blue Page

Poem for a Blue Page

By Sofia Herzog   

who would have known the brick the nostril i ask you cheek-to-cheek my my, much and much to be this thread to follow my shatterings but it is… lovely so lovely aren’t we?  which is appendix and for enough not true of forearm handles/hammers. do not confuse lashes wet for frame of mind’s eye or… Read more »


Young Monk

Young Monk

By Marcus Jackson   

I knew a boy named Shaun whose mother loved successive men that charmed and tortured her. One day in ninth grade Shaun brought a luminous hunting knife to lunch and put it near the throat of the dean, who had always seemed the wryest, most unmovable force as he supervised and distrusted us for no… Read more »


A Type of Crying

A Type of Crying

By Marcus Jackson   

You can cry quite long in a diner without much interruption, assuming the diner is only moderately populated, the décor is outdated and immaculate, and you are capable of the type of crying during which tears do not disrupt your posture. You must hold inside a muscular sorrow and a sense of endurance for torture… Read more »


My Aloe

My Aloe

By Elizabeth Lara   

this morning I woke up spiny and sharp-tongued turned my eyes towards the sun some things are born this way       long slice down the midsection where I am cut, the living gel pours out glutinous after the night has gone, persistence of dreams think of a mirror       memory of a mirror slippery as mercury, a… Read more »


Retreat

Retreat

By Kamilah Aisha Moon   

Flooded with off-key carousel music days careen by, dizzying thoughts, meaning more blown out than a famous self-taught trumpeter’s cheeks. Patted down & packed into shrinking seats, I feel myself ballooning into less. Flew away yet took it all with me, on fire doused in northwest tranquility. Obscured by clouds in the brain, I knew… Read more »


Windows

Windows

By Kamilah Aisha Moon   

Deflowered dreams thin the air on a gorgeous day & peace becomes an iridescent thing, flitting at the corners of your eyes, darting by indecipherable. A pair of ginkgoes’ finery blares gold as they shed, flared arms reach toward things long buried, tapping kegs of tears that today’s young already understand root, volume & salty… Read more »


Poem Inspired by the Historian with the Loud Laugh

Poem Inspired by the Historian with the Loud Laugh

By Alison Stone   

The therapist urges, Feel everything. Don’t make an ordeal about everything. Love takes off our layers. Kept promises and sustained tenderness peel everything. We had a democracy, a middle class. Will the one percent steal everything? The weak suffer from our violent hungers. In the butchered pig’s last squeal, everything. My cat grown blind and… Read more »


Super Grover

Super Grover

By Connemara Wadsworth   

I stitched the Halloween costume my son chose, its blue cape heralding an orange capital G, a bobble-nosed mask. He didn’t like each fitting but new blue jammies were fine. All dressed, he revealed the child he was— standing still, waiting, his look expectant, began to melt away. Had I left in a pin, was… Read more »