MORE by Chris Fields
MOREBy Christopher Fields More Why seek anything morethan a life that slips frictionlessly by?I want more. I want a life that lashes;I want a life that grinds and scrapes,that prunes away weak piecesexposing lurid truths beneath.I...
TAPESTRY by Natasha Zarine
TAPESTRYBy Natasha Zarine
IncarnaratedClutching the rolls of youDrip latent constellationsEnchained by taboo.But when I howl of pleasureI never think of you.
Raping myself, I caressEvery tingling motionFeeling what will not exist.Like a harp, I pluckMyself to...
ROMANCE OF THE MASK by Frederick Pollack
ROMANCE OF THE MASKBy Frederick Pollack
Kin
By the late seventeenth century he isat least possible, crying “Bring outyour dead” and breaking intohouses where the distinctionis moot; where the doctorswith great beaked masks full of posieshave...
WALKING by Patrick Hurley
WALKING…selectionsBy Patrick Hurley
#categories collapse in upon themselvesstrange instruments reshapethe structure of space
random interpretations of irregularitywill hold meaning ifone seeks it
vague constructions are part of theadditive art but who shaves awaysuperfluous matter?
#one night in springjupiter...
ICE CREAM TRUCK by Alicia Cole
ICE CREAM TRUCKBy Alicia Cole Ice Cream TruckThe cone is always the cone.The rhyme scheme, the metric oomph:these hold the dripping words.They're always melting. The sonnet,the sapphic, the prose poem, the cento.Melting into the readers'...
INDIAN POINT by Jack Brown
INDIAN POINTBy Jack Brown
After planting purple spider wortaround the tombstone of the old soldierin the cemetery at the end of the roadwe scuttle from ridge to ridge.A country Docand a visitor from New York.
May...
WHAT WAS THAT CITY by Mary Crow
WHAT WAS THAT CITYBy Mary Crow WHAT WAS THAT CITY―after Cavafy What city tangled me in its sandy roots,led me into desert, where I gasped at vastness and vacancy, pyramids fringingmiles of nothing growing, a void I vanished...
ON THE SANDS OF LIDO by Bob Varghese
ON THE SANDS OF LIDOBy B. A. Varghese
Knowing
It was enoughknowing he was therehis presence like an army of giantsbaritone voices encouragingalong the battle linestrong hands behind meguarding guidingplunging me forward to my future manyet...
NANCY MOREJON’S POETRY Translated by Connor Simons
WINDThree Poems from Nancy Morejon’s “Mutismos”Translated by Connor L. Simons
Wind
A circle. A spirit. A mirror.Immediately myself.From that torturous seat,you come in pursuit of me.What do you search forunder my black figurethat hides itself,even though...
MY NOTEBOOK by Charles Dutka
MY NOTEBOOKBy Charles Dutka
Cafe’ in a Basement
This green teatastes like cadmiumor is it stardustand raspberries?
Its glass container the textureof musicand the color ofrunic magicperformed on a stageof frozen salt.
It was the temperature of that bluish...