Tag: Poetry

Absent Moon by Nadya Rousseau

This was a night sheathed in a beckoning darkness: a starless sky and summer breeze, designed to envelop a traveling ingénue. Clothes packed and unpacked again in tattered suitcases— with an absent moon there could be no solace; although silhouettes had been tucked away between all lost stars— her lover’s touch was still felt along…

Mine by Raia Small

All our poems are buried within us and all we can do is dig. – Jonathan Galassi   Remember when we dug up the rusted carburetor in the garden? The torn rubber tire tread, the dirt-encrusted gears? Planting squash and basil, we ate the lead-steeped tomatoes stubbornly all summer. That’s what this kind of excavation…

I Was Out by Raia Small

On the west side near the bus terminal on the overpass overlooking a sea of retired train cars, tucked in rail to rail. They were captives at the station, a soft spray of Hudson River water slowly rusting their bodies. It’s an imperceptible shift, from motion to stillness, but the turnover will wreck your brakes.…

To People from the Other Side by John Grey

I play music that I think the dead would like to hear, something to spark their listening from the other side. Mozart is a perennial favorite, as one immortal to another so to speak. “A Day In The Life” by the Beatles too, that last long seemingly endless chord like a taut serene musical illustration…

All the Birds Aren’t Perfect in Paradise by Rosemarie DiMatteo

Struggling back to life at this age— but for all the bleary-eyed hours and bone-jarring bus rides for all those cheap-shoe blisters and fending off the smiling fiends the telltale eye bags you can’t mask with The World’s Best Cover Stick the legs that won’t shape up and that fifth metatarsal that aches where it…

Orpheus by Jim Bartruff

The first time he opened the wad of tinfoil he wondered what it was all about, but he took one with the cross- hatching on it and half an hour later felt like God, Jesus and The Holy Ghost. He believed Bob Norton when he said he had played with Spirit last time they were…

Two Rides by Jim Bartruff

1. Who put “Lola” on the jukebox I will never know, midnight, Dove Creek, Utah, first snow on the ground, counter seats and Indians, square in their black hats. In the pickup’s bed, three mule deer bound in tarps, the road home from the canyon yet a thousand miles, a thousand miles across flat scrub…

Valparaiso Is Burning By Marcela Urrutia

I’m not at home   Nobody here to hold me   I’m driving to LA   It’s violent   A disintegration of my core   Valparaiso is burning   A geographical wound   The port of the Pacific     The nights The boats   This is my territory   Now   A fragment sparkles…

Highland Park By Marcela Urrutia

I can’t write today.  Your pain is my pain.  My neck feels soft.  You wash the dishes—you get hard easily.  Leaves everywhere.  Andrea moves through the house.  I let her.  The Salvadorian Revolution was extreme, a laboratory of the Cold War.  I bite my lips.  I wash the dishes.  Impatient you—you sleep in the back…

Free to the Public Every Thursday by Scott Chalupa

The young couple is discordant—two blue shirts making out among the shuffle of art-grazers   (an ocean of eyes). At the exhibit’s entrance, a dome of aluminum cups and plates throws circles of light on the floor. A stone Buddha sits in meditation   against the south wall. His ears (stretched to his hips) forgive…

Spring 2014

The Winter 2011 issue features Creative Nonfiction from Micaela Seidel, Genre X from Sarah Long, and Poetry from Lek Borja, Michelle “Strawberry” Heymann, Wednesday Hobson, and Jessica Kincade

Spring 2013

The Winter 2011 issue features Creative Nonfiction from Micaela Seidel, Genre X from Sarah Long, and Poetry from Lek Borja, Michelle “Strawberry” Heymann, Wednesday Hobson, and Jessica Kincade

Winter 2013

The Winter 2011 issue features Creative Nonfiction from Micaela Seidel, Genre X from Sarah Long, and Poetry from Lek Borja, Michelle “Strawberry” Heymann, Wednesday Hobson, and Jessica Kincade

Spring 2012

The Winter 2011 issue features Creative Nonfiction from Micaela Seidel, Genre X from Sarah Long, and Poetry from Lek Borja, Michelle “Strawberry” Heymann, Wednesday Hobson, and Jessica Kincade

Fall 2011

The Winter 2011 issue features Creative Nonfiction from Micaela Seidel, Genre X from Sarah Long, and Poetry from Lek Borja, Michelle “Strawberry” Heymann, Wednesday Hobson, and Jessica Kincade

Seized Lies My Body

Lek Borja Seized lies my body in the latitude of her sex How her desire shines like luminescence in the sea as if the moon were inside it, as in every hour where we enter together Tenderly sink then float longingly so My eyes follow her journey down to its end With her tears I…

Beaver Valley Homestead – 1966

   Jordan Hartt        (grass buckles in the newborn wind)                 (the cattle on a thousand hills are mine)            (gravel settles behind wheels)      (grain the color of nickel waves in dull sunlight)                                                                                                                         (worn overalls hang off the whitewashed porch railing) (with a farmhand he brands sullen calves)               (weathered fences stagger…

Saint Elizabeth’s

Sarah Long   My body is an ever-changing clock— spastic springs and gears never settling, never keeping proper time. Bodies carry bodies in pockets, on chains like skin-scented heirlooms. When my grandmother died, she left me her first kiss, the ticking sound of summer asphalt and peach fuzzed legs. I see my mother’s handwriting on…

From the Fire

Donnelle McGee for Seven i come from them smoggy nights in LA i come from the meeting of john and prostitute i come from the ohio players shouting fire i come from being told                  here                  take these food stamps to the market and get some milk for you and your brother i come from under the sound…

Age of Parallax

Vivian Faith Prescott   The muddy tide rising to shore should carry you downriver by now. But, I imagine your scow wedged between cottonwoods on the riverbank branches shoved through your chest motor revving. Maybe your skiff                                                       is jammed on the sandbar, and you’ve stumbled over the side, whirlpools sucking your rubber-booted feet. But here,…

Ranch Poems

Stephen Page     Last Night I Dreamed Rain   The clouds quickened under a wax moon, then settled around plastic palm fronds. My truck stuck in river bed three, and just like the time it slipped into a ditch, I tried to push it out alone, putting it in gear, then straining under the…

A Fine Meal [Ars Poetica]

Nancy Long   i.         Harmony A fine Chinese meal my mother said is made of five flavors, a blending of elemental portions. What is sour, she said, if not the flesh of plum?                                 To know sour is to taste green                                 watering across your tongue, to feel the force of wood striking your open…

Scenes from a Housefire Two: The Firemen Asked

Jane Cassady     Is there anything we can go in and get for you before we board it up? Before the window plywood gets its eventual graffiti, before you wash the clothes in Pine Sol to get out the smell of smoke, before a loving friend helps fold those clothes, so specifically and kindly,…

I Didn’t Know You Could Sign a Corner Store Like a Cast

Jane Cassady   But here it is. As we walk the summer camp kindergarten through third grade down the street to Pleasant Playground for their weekly swim, the kids are in their two quiet lines, listening for traffic and blue jays. The shutters are open, even though it's only been a week. "Poor Mr. Kim,"…

Winter 2011

The Winter 2011 issue features Creative Nonfiction from Micaela Seidel, Genre X from Sarah Long, and Poetry from Lek Borja, Michelle “Strawberry” Heymann, Wednesday Hobson, and Jessica Kincade