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 […]
Poetry
cul-de-sac
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 […]
HOMBRE NUEVO and piece of dead bird by Nicole Cecilia Delgado
translated from the Spanish by Sarah Pazen
lipsticked man
bitching bearded man
bearding bitched man
paper or latex man
boy no, man neither
The Wandering Life by Yves Bonnefoy
translated from the French by Hoyt Rogers
A wet canvas ragbag in the gutter: it’s the picture of grapes by Zeuxis, which enraged birds craved so much, picked apart so fiercely with their greedy beaks, that the clusters vanished, then the colors, then every trace of the image at this hour—the twilight of the world—when they dragged it across the flagstones.
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 […]
Aubade
by Maya McOmie
Nocturnal life’s no more bone
chilling than pale ice cream
melting on a silver
pool.
Waiting is angular,
then smooth and rounded.
Two Poems
by antmen pimentel mendoza
More than liking / how it tasted I was just tickled to bear / witness.
Roost Profusion
by Karen George
O, to live in a greenhouse palace, a conservatory, stone walls broken with glass—massive multi-paned windows, ceiling dome open to dewy zephyrs—surrounded by conifers, mosses, ferns, angiosperms.
