Category: Poetry

Maria Mazziotti Gillan/Poetry

So Many Things I Wish I Had Done So many things I wish I had done, so many things I wish I had said, all those words that could have comforted but that I withheld, so now even so many years after my father’s death I wish I could...

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T.R. Hummer/Poetry

What’s the matter with the old musicians
   of Kansas City? From here they look
Like planets exploded in the prairie wind.
   That’s why the sunset swings
So hard, distant and bright and bloody.

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Lyn Lifshin/Four Poems of Aleppo

LIFE IN ALEPPO a day without bombs, is good. You can leave your apart- ment, wander thru small oasis of color and light. No words, only the sense of loss. No color except for an plot of green and one plum tree, not turned to...

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Rich Ives/Flash Nonfiction

was busy naming the clouds before I knew it. I called them what happens next, and I called them this is the way it has always been. I put new clothes on them, and I taught them to dance differently. I tried to get that slouch out of their walk, but they always smiled with self-satisfaction. All you had to do was make a few things happen and everyone forgot about the limp.

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Michael T. Young/Poetry

     Dredging Gulls tow my gaze out beyond the breakwaters and jetties, to coast there among the glass towers. Wind whips the water in me into waves and spindrift. Along all my shores are hardnesses broken down into sand,...

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Brendan Brady/Poetry

The Snow in March is Tired Powdered abstractions in an opaque vanity, sickly snow perspires and gasps, engorged and sinking into sleep. A lullaby swallowed is wasted under evening daffodil while streetlights seize, blinking and...

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Cammy Pedroja/3 Poems

The Invisible Man   By the window, on a black bone chair the germs leave your body through smoke. Can two tandem blankly to bash out a cure? I have read that drones die in the act of mating. Honey-stomachs busting in the rub of...

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Emily Carney Reviews Elizabeth Cohen

  Against the Ache: Elizabeth Cohen’s The Patron Saint of Cauliflower   By Emily Carney Contributing Reviewer “I’m preparing for the end of the world / again,” writes Elizabeth Cohen, “which is to say I am making / goulash.”...

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Reme Terrelonge/Poetry

Songbird’s Strum Storm Anaphora happens at the beginning. Anaphora is a prelude. Anaphora has not started to move. Anaphora is shaky. Anaphora shines obliviously. Anaphora introduces it anew. It is the birth.   An enigma is...

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