Poetry

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Remembrance by Mariam Ahmed

Remembrance The sun sleepsIn the dirt, here.I am less smoke, more steam,The refreshing kind of bitter. In the dirt, here,We’ll plant our feet and leave.The refreshing...

Two Poems by Ince Lachey

observant gravity a sort of protestis underway performedin excellent style bythe superfluity of those who have ever beenbeloved by youwho beat with a hoop-stick against...

Two Poems by Charleigh Triaga

Phone Call: Grams, On Her Ex-Fiancé He’d show to work an hour late. Never have any money to go out and go anywhere. I always...

Suburban Spiritual by Kirby Wright

Suburban Spiritual Someone plays “Amazing Grace”On a xylophone.Reverbs from the bombingsAdd percussion. Unexpected heat drives many indoors,Even the crazy flying twin garage flags.Shadows hidden in showersBecome...

Two Poems by Nicholas Pagano

Red Tower At this height, it looks lesslike defeated, more withstood.Summer’s hottest daysin dwindle, retreatinguntil the sameas any other battle foughtand survived. I believein victory,...

Funland by David Fallick

Funland I stole her away, I did.I stole her away.I went into her restaurantAnd stole her away. She has a Chinese restaurantShe ran it with her...

Three Poems by Summer Hardinge

Aperture with thanks to Ikkyu SojunAnd I said, the moon is a house.It was...

Two Poems by Gary Grossman

Sir Isaac Newton's First Law of MetaphorAm I an object at rest or in motion?Newton proposes "an object at rest remains at rest" but...

Two Poems by Darren Stein

The Four Sons I sit, the wicked son at the Passover table, my teeth blunted by my father, not because I am ignorant of the law like...

Two Poems by Karla Daly

vixen’s screamsplintering shriek in the dark too late for nighthawk too early for...

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Remembrance by Mariam Ahmed

Remembrance The sun sleepsIn the dirt, here.I am less smoke, more steam,The refreshing kind of bitter. In the dirt, here,We’ll plant our feet and leave.The refreshing...

Two Poems by Ince Lachey

observant gravity a sort of protestis underway performedin excellent style bythe superfluity of those who have ever beenbeloved by youwho beat with a hoop-stick against...

Two Poems by Charleigh Triaga

Phone Call: Grams, On Her Ex-Fiancé He’d show to work an hour late. Never have any money to go out and go anywhere. I always...
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