Poems
“I read the line over and over / as if I might discern / the little fires set / the flames of an idea licking the page”
“Illumination,” Natasha Trethewey
We congregate in aisle ten | Poetry
We congregate in aisle ten of the twentyfourhour walmart in that city named after cigarettes we find the light, the truth, somewhere between sara lee pies and sticky krispy kreme giggling on nothing, sipping a southern suburban flavor of late capitalist pop we search...
A Winter in Majorca | Poetry
In the damp cell in Valldemossa, Chopin sits at the piano, a smear of blood across his lips. George Sand, in trousers, stands beside him, cold cigar clinched in her teeth. The pomegranate trees shiver in the wind. The ceaseless rain drums the windowpane. He is...
Two Poems | Poetry
Owning a Hawk Feather is Illegal Crows raise a ruckus on the mountain this morning, their cacophony roused by a red-tailed hawk circling too close to their nests. The crows mob and dive-bomb the raptor until it flees and the racket stops. Later, as I walk down the...
Fruiting Body | Poetry
Fruiting Body Sometimes I imagine my body fodder for damp gardens, sunken in the permanent earth. I am not dead weight for trees. Sometimes a carcass is just a carcass. But the soft underside of every alive thing is an offering. Tender bellies up in surrender, supple...
These Stretchmarks | Poetry
These Stretchmarks These stretchmarks drink a full glass of water before bed, they want to stand up and stand out in the morning, tired of dimming their light to avoid attention. These stretchmarks don’t pretend, they leave red marks when you want to subtract...Follow Us
