Archives:
poetry

Sonnet

by Nathaniel Beyer

A feather fallen from the forehead,
A name forgotten. The face of a person
Passed in the street, the lips and eyes
Faded, only the swell of the breast,
A rise around […]

Carrot Top Filth, Emboldens Terrorists

by Ryan Bird
Today’s hearing of the
Senate Armed Services Committee
ended with a near-unanimous decision
which ordered the unconditional withdrawal
of every redheaded soldier in Iraq.
“America doesn’t support troops like that,”
said a senior Delaware […]

Hunger in Prague

by Gerald Huml
Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are.
—Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin
I. Café Arco
The wood paneling was a comfort.
Though singed by the cigarette butts of […]

Despite This Thing We Call Grief

by Rod Peckman
Behind this incubate day,
mists spray silent but whispered.
A flood when our summer slakes,
leaves umber flaking to rust.
Soft ray settles petaled hair,
leaves bare the purple to rust.
Incubate these true […]

Bird Feeder

by Michael Lee Johnson
Baby,
born
just
a
sparrow-
first flight
from balcony
to tree limb.
A chip of corn falls
from the feeder
to the ground.

Oksa in Four Parts

by Lori Huskey
1.
SILVER CHOPSTICKS

we get them every morning in the long breakfast lines. my life is messy with you in it: grasping at gummy duck liver with two […]

Dark Muse

by Jspru1.You turn to pick a poison mushroomin the dew-slick field where we lie.Not the deadly Amanita, you say, but “A damp,dark experience you will not soon forget.”In the small […]

Skins

by Brenda Mann Hammack

The birds keep dropping
like thick leaves only
to rise again. A truck
scorches by and my eyes
scan, adjusting for depth
and focus.
Yesterday, even the wind took color,
flung itself at my […]

Triptych (Sand Mountain, Alabama)

by Chella Courington
i. Portrait of the Artist in Oils
Dali engine
broken
teeth sailing in air
popping eyeballs
lips split
dangle on moon’s ladle
tossing them into
steel bowls
onion
olives
radicchio
streaked white.
ii. Portrait of the Artist’s Parents in Kodak
1953: […]

My Daughter Asks About Colombia

by Nic Sebastian
and I tell her Bogota in autumn
is drizzle and tramlines until
the Candelaria
the streets become
warm stone they tighten
against cars and all the high houses
have names
we are students in October
in […]