Poetry

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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...

Two Poems by Daniel Morris

A Rainy Day Song For Sly Stone You know today was rained out So inside all day just me and my Clicker my box my many Channels my...

Two Poems by Judith Taylor

The Hope She was born when I was three, old enoughto celebrate but not to understandthe grainy black and white photosof bodies stacked like...

Must-read

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...

One Poem by Kate Gorman

FALLSTREETLIGHT SWITCH The sodium-vapor streetlightswith fresnel lenses like lidded eyeshave been replacedwith horseshoe-like arcs of LED lights.As the morning stays dark longerand evening comes on...

Three Poems by Mary Whitlow

Cloth & Sun    Chaos greets me at the door—   broken things swirl,   dust motes through worn curtains,   a breath before the next bruise.   You coil like an old cobra,   fangs...
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