Showing results for Poetry
Three Poems
Sarah Ann Winn
She says the moon is just an overflowing ashtray with butts buried in the dark side.
Daddy Issues
Tyler Gillespie
I tell you I wish my dad would come out as trans like Caitlyn Jenner &/or late-in-life gay like my ex-boyfriend’s father.
I Had a Dream That Was a Salsa Flavor
Jason Koo
for Rachel Corso
Have you tried all our salsa flavors before?
This is mild (not medium), this is spicy, this is verde
(That means green), this is volcanic, this is you
Not listening.
These Are Not Poems
Elizabeth Ellen
My new friend interrupted me to say, “You seem like you live like a real artist.”
My new friend had already been twice published by The New Yorker.
I thought maybe she had confused me with herself.
If Everything's Under Control, You're Going Too Slow
Meg Wade
Let the okra go to waste, steal oranges from the
corner store. I'll tell you that I love you like I've
loved no one else. Our bodies are made to be
useful, move fast. The fastest man in
POST-RAPHAELITE BROTHERHOOD PAINTINGS
Chelsea Harlan
Painting of a Vietnamese restaurant lunch menu.
Painting of a woman being pulled out of a river
by her hair and she is smiling and her hair is dry.
Painting of a war-torn meadow:
It Was The Summer They Let The Opossum Into Your Bed
Natasha Kochicheril Moni
The summer you learned who was dealing what. You were applying to programs, your pointillism, neat in ink, when a wind disappeared your drawing.
Smeary Flowers, 1983
Lauren Camp
All I wanted was the haze of a worn gown / of sleep after the scrape of that / honey-sipped night.
Three Poems
Sarah Barber
All summer the future had been coming for us like a thunderstorm at which turkeys look up and drown in the rain.
Three Poems
Luiza Flynn-Goodlett
This has to stop— / you're a year dead. I shatter the mirror // with a glare, pace the hall carpet, / but others arrive by dawn, agitated // by thuribles, syllables scattered from / pulpits, daughters buttoned into pastel.
Three Poems
Molly McGuire
fuck me here on this scabrous mountain while we all watch each other among sacred olives fuck away desire.
deaths in the family
Giancarlo Paradiso
Watching the blood drain was the moment she knew/ that she didn’t have it figured out."
poems
Elizabeth Ellen
Tanja and I were competing to see who had moved the most as a child.
“I know of at least fourteen places we lived before I was eighteen,” I said.
Tanja started naming places she had lived. She kept naming her grandma’s house over and over, between every place.
Recent Books
Pregaming Grief
Danielle Chelosky
Is this new relationship self-sabotage in disguise, or is it the cure?
Backwardness
Garielle Lutz
Garielle's longest, most peculiar, most particularized book. A sure-to-be collector's item. Not be be missed!