He sometimes likes to sit in a chair and imagine he is typing,
pressing the keys ever harder and R sticking on return.
Altar by Aaron Caycedo-Kimura
Turned from poplar,
the salt and pepper shakers
vesper on a slate tile.
They align themselves crosswise
between two candles,
melted onto maple blocks.
These Days by Howie Good
NEW poetry from our Writer of the Month, Howie Good, on finding a stranger in the mirror.
The man lifts his phone. I suddenly realize he has no memory of the land having once been ocean. Everywhere I go these days I encounter strange little details that are almost like clues that it’s spring ...
Bright White by Martina Reisz Newberry
The bright white bird is not afraid--not of
flight nor of failure. Its only fear is
hunger and it vanquishes that with every
dive and stab at the darkening water below.
Three Short Poems About New York by Tanya Bryan
Chelsea in the Rain
wandering Chelsea
in the rain
galleries closed
on Mondays
still waiting for
Chelsea Hotel
to reopen
its Affect-ations to me
The List of Things You Are Sick of Four Months Past Diagnosis by Ally Malinenko
Being the youngest person in every
waiting room and the way the nurses
and the other patients look at you with pity
and fear as if this disease were getting stronger
by growing earlier in your young flesh
Crazy by B. Deep
NEW Poetry from Bay-Area slam poet B. Deep.
Nothing gets you sober like an overdose of crazy
Crazy like an ex’s sledgehammer in full swing,
ending where my windshield used to be
Crazy like tea parties in mad hats,
straightjacket straps that whisper back
& everyone who loves black licorice
Voyagers by Howie Good
NEW Poetry from our Writer of the Month for June 2015, Howie Good.
"After long drought, press-ganged sailors, riding the flood tide, learn to be water, the key to everything ... "
Lockdown by Drew Attana
NEW Poetry from Drew Attana, recalling the days of duck-and-cover defense drills, and the horror of today's school shootings.
"My father told me his school had drills during
the missile crisis. They had to get
beneath wooden desks and lace their fingers
to protect their skulls from the coming blast,
a proper helmet against fiery debris."
Questions to Ask the Lord or a Sleeping Lover by Alia Hussain Vancrown
NEW poetry from Alia Hussain Vancrown that mixes the spiritual with the ordinary.
"Where does the will to live
exist, when year after year,
loved ones row out
into the darkness, and only
the vessels return?"