By: Anne Jennings Paris i. Before It’s bloody, this moon, right before the eclipse, colored by the wildfires on a far off mountain,...

By: Peter Verbica Klimt ladles his figures in gold as if he were a gifted baker. He dips and drizzles and drenches them, like honey...

By: Clare Chu Haiku, In Celebration Of Cherry Blossom, Sakura Spring, full moon madness struck, the exquisitely calm people celebrate the...

By: Ron Pullins Her rocks roll from the sack Her rocks roll from the sack — A paper bag — Roll across the table. Light as wind bounce...

By: Nicole Zdeb I come to you in the hour before day begins across roads and ranges that night early left following the imprint of...

By: Erich Sysak In the city of silks you find a glass key on a ledge where rainwater drips from the clanking subway above. Here you look...

By: Heather Derr-Smith Magnetic Girl I was a wonder. Propelling mountains like carp Into the sea, no match for me, all men trembled. I...

By: Jerico Lenk sunrise will soon bleed like watercolor and the trolls settle into dreams downtown under the bridge so, ...

By: B. Martin Gibbons Their breath is agitation, and their life A storm whereon they ride… — Lord Byron (Mania) To you I owe the...

By: Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah No, not you, not even you keeping a distance between our past & future by adding a yard to the yacht, hands...

By: Amie Sharp A few years ago, the global mega-hit Titanic was re-released in 3D. I like to think of that late 20th century film, with...

By: Gerard Sarnat i. Mea Culpas, Mea Shearim Beginning to understand I began writing to understand what wasn’t understood, wouldn’t it...

By: Gavin Yates look which sleeping dragons, sleep states here. rapid voltage: all camera. flicker at high-frequency. say your genius is...

By: Greg Rappleye That Fall CATHLEEN (begins to keen). It’s destroyed we are from this day. It’s destroyed, surely. -John Millington...

By: John Francis Istel The Canfea circle consists of 11 stones, 9 of which are still upright, just outside the village of Ardgroom, on...

By: James Grabill The human head isn’t hard to find, unless you’re looking down. It’s never finished making its appearance, always in...

By: Kelly "Native Child" Mays Theo (an open letter from Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo after death) Shall we suffer for art? find...

By: Michael B. Carroll Jr. Heel-to-toe, he taps to the harmonics of reverberating bounces and swish-swooshing tempos, and to the...

By: Robert Krantz Whitman in Canada Our dying didn’t matter to many, silence of our song becoming a palate for adolescent chortles and...