This is holy: April, its wavering warmth. That the body makes a body. That the bereavement peace lily from 1-800-Flowers out-arches its container, won’t wither no matter how little I water. The umbrella plant in its macrame swing scratching the living room’s east wall, snowball bloom of the cherry tree beyond the window. Do you […]
Featured Poetry
IT IS BEAUTIFUL THAT WE EXIST
self-portrait as rodent
by Sophie Hall
my sister tells me what it’s like to run across the roof of a repair shop: it made noises like the Mount Storm floor and I thought I was going to fall everywhere. . almost-euphemism—the floor of our fear . holds the name of our […]
hey, have you ever considered the word “rewind” may drop from the next generation’s lexicon?
by tommy wyatt
On Introspection
by Merridawn Duckler
Surprising how much of it is song. Much is lyric. Under that, admonition, calling yourself names before someone does. Open question who someone else consists of. Thinking how often it all ends in a dangling participle. Why is it bad. Or, to put it another way, what does this world consist of. Manufactured conversations. Some […]
Eve and Insomnia Barbie Tour the Dream House
by Carolyn Oliver
You wanted at least three showers, two oceans— and a pool to watch anemones devour jellyfish. Listen, I’d love to stay, but I’ve disremembered my accessories. Here’s a mermaid’s purse, for when you find them. Turkey-lettuce wrap, eye mask, Kant? Hegel. I was thinking, in the living room: Everything goes wrong at the water’s surface. […]
cul-de-sac
by Hannah Loeb
empty house. cleared hardwood floor, except for an oily smear where my saag paneer spilled the third to last night we lived there together; we had already packed the side tables, so i balanced my last available bowl on the armrest of the couch… inevitable splat of creamed spinach in the dust, a photo of […]
Ligatureless [an Anatomy]
by David Greenspan
We are failed / animals, old / without shirts, choking ourselves / into paper towels.
The most punk thing you can’t remember
by Gion Davis
I dreamed I was never so lonely Re-treading the years where I have never been My life saved by a peach sno-cone the color of roses And sitting on the sidewalk outside the 76 eating fried chicken. From here I can see where the fire jumped the highway and kept going. I was so angry […]
Two poems
by andie millares
i don’t wanna be pregnant but i want everyone to treat me like i’m pregnant i went to the far away coffee shop there were no cheddar jalapeno biscuits, disappointment. my dad wants a grandchild and i am settling for a chocolate croissant. everyone’s either got someone who’s their baby or once was a baby […]
Two Poems
by Tyler Raso
Watch Your Hellmouth you can come over and we can put our hellmouths together. i’ll light the candle that smells like virgins being burned alive, becoming virgin smoke, virgin light. i will brush my hellteeth before you arrive, because i still want you to think my hellbreath is baby blue like curiosity, my hellchest warming […]