Category: poetry
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Raspberries
by Jordan Williams To grow down first, then upin a fruit filled half acremeans a bittersweet bloodline pucker-tart memoriesthat sour pop in rear mouthas though unripened grapes small, unimpressive green globesraised on trellised vinespropped up right down the center of our backyardlike a vein we ran aroundduring kickball and the landlord, Judy with her obsessive…
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Hamartia
by Jordan Williams I didn’t mean to, but I wrote this for you —what started as a reflection on my townthe way people here are white and lacedscared of things without functionalitycars without those seats that fold downlike mechanical origami, the way they arenot moved by the smell of old booksor drawn to a clear…
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Three Poems
by Meghan Kilpatrick The Worst Parts of YourselfFind comfort in the unknownNurture your bodyEvery part of youI hope your confidence radiatesI hope you stop criticizing MarathonEmotions RunTo the beat ofThe pounding heartEyes meetTo say whatWords are unableTo express SolitudeHe glances out his windowwatching the sunflowers danceto the wind’s quiet songThe Earth remained silentHe was the…
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From Being Stalingrad to Nothingness
by Brett Stout After she annexed her existenceandthe Crimea confessions as oxymoron’swere writtenin dead languages onblank Post-It Notesleft in empty carriagesas thebroken dams filled withneon ghetto trashcansand urban rodent predators weresprayingdesigner cologne onme and inthe pages ofmonthly corporate familymagazines, celebrate the revolutionwith blood soaked handsand pinwheelsof death and mass genocide yellow ochreprimary redblackandlime greenpaint strokes…
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Old Umbrellas for the New Blood Rain
by Brett Stout The metallic neon bloodladen Americanconcrete andgrass, Ohio is now singed, safety pinnedaccessories and mementosof futurepresentand past enthusiastic wars, black tie dinnersandcheap gas masksmelt protests ofpeaceor annihilationborn soloon gargantuanwaves of a spring unrest andseverelydefaulted apathy, a coagulationofeuphoric andembittered state lotteriesand national drafts, hands to faceandface to facea reduction oftear gas laden emotionsandcentrally stationed…
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From Being Stalingrad to Nothingness
by Brett Stout After she annexed her existenceandthe Crimea, confessions as oxymoron’swere writtenin dead languages onblank Post-It Notesleft in empty carriagesas thebroken dams filled withneon ghetto trashcansand urban rodent predators weresprayingdesigner cologne onme and inthe pages ofmonthly corporate familymagazines, celebrate the revolutionwith blood soaked handsand pinwheelsof death and mass genocide, yellow ochreprimary redblackandlime greenpaint strokes…
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Heart’s Desire
by Lacie Semenovich i. I climbed this mountain to feel the breeze coarseagainst my skin, the rocks bruisesoftly my bones, to see the mother sky. ii. Lightning spread over the path. Mudslides passed through my fingers, fedthe barren earth retreating beneath my feet. iii. Willow trees hang heavy, ripe with dew unshed. Pine sap seals…
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The Absence of Melancholy
by John Tustin The worst times are the times like nowWhen the days whiz by like the blur of carsPassing by when one is hitchhiking on theHighwayWith just that little wistful sigh in the mindWhen the car doesn’t even slow down, justA flash of blue or red or gray or black, theBreeze of the passing…
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Clean Bugs, Dirty Carpet
by Brett Stout Artist: Tiffany Arp-Daleo The trending of negative scars, the warzone isn’t out thereit’s in here, the militant swansof theunderground resistance movementrenting ghetto apartmentswith bad credit andworse soulsin an unknownTerminus Cityfunerals for future fuehrersand class clownswiretap my docile bodyand defile themannequin after midnightfeed me old bread andrusted hypodermic formulasand vintagecataract addictionswithbirthday cards addressed,…
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Poem by Simon Perchik
To remind you how long before whitebecomes invisible –you fold this dish clothover and over as if each splash is wiped with a cry making roomthe way an old love song turns the worldstill from inside, lowers it into this sink though you reach down for the armthat was everything –it’s a ritualwhere after every…
Dream Noir 