Turning ElegyLeaving is all we have.It’s your not being here speaking.Leaving the door ajar, the tableswept—turning into something less than comfort. What did you...
At the State Maximum Security PrisonThere are no elevators. They can’t be secured.To get to classrooms on the third floor,everyone takes the stairs.Before...
Stolen LandscapesIt is Vincent van Gogh's 168th birthday. His yellow "Sunflower" painting is part of a collection we saw today at the National Gallery....
These poems are part of a special section of the Mid-Atlantic Review, Celebrating Black History, and selected by editors Khadijah Ali-Coleman, Carolivia Herron, and...
End of Summer
As she steps off the bus, I notice dried tracks
on her cheeks.
The sun was out today, waving
through a cool autumn breeze
with nowhere...
art opening
instead of a gun
you use a camera
amputees
are your subject
/these poor people/ you say
the walls of the gallery are dark
prints pinned neatly under spotlight
//life...
LACUNA
Another sun unfurlsover chewing gumcanyons, long gnawedby your foothold.
A corpus colossus,hippocamping: you couchin fault lines, hammockedwhite matter.
Stroke mewith each toss-turn —a neuron-starved bender.
Hypoxia will...
