Poetry

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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...

Two Poems by Alex Carrigan

“I just want to tell you that some people have war in their countries” After Sunu P. Chandy A Top Model contestant tells a cryinggirl this...

One Poem by Michele Evans

sirenia n. the sirens, half bird and half woman, were “dangerous” maidens, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting voices to shipwreck on...

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Two Poems by Jack Giaour

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...

Two Poems by Emily Webb

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...

One Poem by Charlotte Van Schaack

Writing On The Wall   Even with the fear of haunted place, everyone is trying to become a ghost.          As in the paid...
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