Category: Poetry

by Kenton K. Yee Go ahead, whet your tongue It's fragrant, flavorful—roses for noses. You like its lightness too. It's infiltrating your recipes. Boiling, broiling, sous-vide— them too. You can't imagine root beer without it. This is the way the world ends, not from zest nor sin but spice complacency. Overgrowth by Larissa Hauck Kenton… Continue reading Anise →

by Hannah Mitchell Writing always feels like a seance at my desk. The souls of my foremothers rise, Curve, twist themselves through my pen. (They demand I write in pen.) (There will be no erasures.) Let me introduce my hand-me-down heart: At its core, a lamp trimmed With cast-off buttons. (My grandmother's mother couldn't write… Continue reading My Grandmothers Write Through Me →

by Erin Jamieson at three in the morning you wake her: how would you like to go on an adventure? her eyes, i imagine, wild & bright with the prospect of time w/ you & even though it’s sleeping & no one is out you drive with her. when i wake i know something is… Continue reading Car Ride →

by Travis Stephens Loose valves, a rocker tip-tapper, something out of whack in my chest. It rattles. Bangs. Time for a tune up, god knows, not a replacement, maybe a little service. Pluck it out. Set it on the work bench. Pressure wash it of memory, of rust and greasy stuff. Maybe a new coat… Continue reading Heart Medicine →

by Kirby Michael Wright Few read anymore, so engraving my poem on a marker is a waste. Buying a plot's pricey too. Cremation? A bargain if I catch a deal making an advanced purchase. Feed my ashes to that giant Norfolk with the ocean view. Pray for my soul during feeding? Forget it. Instead, play… Continue reading Final Request of a Poet →

by Candice Kelsey Today, we are ordered into total lockdown. I tell my students to cluster away from the doors, Avoid direct visibility of scope & crosshairs. 12-gauge semiautomatic shotguns, Glock 20s rarely miss. Their assignments become locking doors, stacking Desks in barricade, turning out lights. I would gladly, without any hesitation, take A spray… Continue reading This is Only a Drill →

In Memory of W.S. Merwin by Trina Gaynon You opened a door to a nightmare. I don't Remember where the walk took me. I cannot tell. Shadows on shadows clouded my vision Of broken lands. Long blue shadows would reign, Made colder by rare blue skies of a belated Spring. Mostly, our sun hides its… Continue reading The Last One →

by Scout Faller stained as we are with forgetting. sitting like an idiot and with your one spoken language, american english, a poorly fitted coat. hair flat, face to the sun like you knew all her names before addressing her. dripping with the exigence, a snotty bitch—reaching for the coffee cup in a way that… Continue reading notes app poem →

by Allen Keith The only faces left are on the clock and the shocked sockets of my walls; one staring back from a mirror, dazed, looking a thousand yards deeper than need be. I asked for this, wanted it, fought for it. It takes effort to attain solitude in a city of six million morons.… Continue reading Cheers →

by Rhonda Browning White She hangs bundles of lavender, peppermint, catnip, and chamomile that dangle like hands tied at fragile wrists drying into skeletal bones to be crumbled into usefulness beyond their death Dangle like hands tied at fragile wrists beside stitched chimes of leather britches, beans she will soak back to life in winter,… Continue reading Delicacies →