by Jonathan Greenhause | Aug 11, 2017
Like a violin wishing it were a piano. Like a cirrus cloud afraid of heights. Like a Nobel scientist unsure of the science. Like a barn with hay-fever. Like a lake afraid of being too...
by Casey Patrick | Aug 3, 2017
This river it isn’t / a river your mirror it isn’t a curse / can you come back to your body already / your hands they’re waiting to hold themselves / your voice thin sunlight / guitar strings from far away / either are or aren’t there / and so what if...
by Jennifer Stewart Miller | Jul 12, 2017
The Parable of Baby Doc & the Green Crab The NYT today says Haiti’s Baby Doc Duvalier is dead. So that’s that— another brutal dictator escapes without paying his tab. It’s almost dusk as a cloud a little darker than the others leans down to kiss the...
by Dawn Potter | Jun 19, 2017
The sun slants his hapless rays through spiderwebbed glass, and amid the hills of newspaper rumpling up from the tablecloth our tight-lipped mama unpacks a miracle fresh from the S & H Green Stamps Store— a glory of chrome and veneer, five fat...
by Joseph O. Legaspi | Jun 5, 2017
When I arose the petals of the pink tulips were strewn on the table, debris of glossy tongues. Stalks in stale water leaned against the glass vase, weathered trees after a storm. How I withered into bed when they were still in bloom. A Sabbath morning, the...
by Gary Soto | May 29, 2017
The third line on my brow— It arrived last night. The crosshatches around the mouth— They speak for me. My hair surrenders to wind. My fuck-you finger is romancing my thumb. The slouch, the crippled penmanship, My earlobes of Buddha, The smile that reveals a...
