By: Rhys Daly Behind the Dissatisfaction Somewhat melancholic I play a jaw harp its tongue rattling against our canines you’ve ground to...

By: Meghan J. M. Caughey Survivor I saw her again just now wearing a long pale pink coat, clutching a white canvas bag of groceries...

By: Ed McManis Buried to our chins in holiday sand, summer skittering on crab legs net-to-net, the cool aloe of her lips mouthing what we...

By: Anthony Clemons Blizzardous squalls appear on the break of Fall’s horizon. Gusts of disorder surround us. I’ve listed what’s needed—...

By: Josh Nicolaisen Eviction Nearly forty feet up, the dying sugar maple’s crown has cracked midback where it leans to lie across the...

By: Toni La Ree Bennett Drain the ocean, you said, and we would walk among the craters on the submerged skin of the earth. I obeyed. I...

By: Eric Lunde Your hands look like night he said Where do you keep them? Hidden from sight so they Won’t turn into...

By: Benjamin Rose The sudden breeze of a lost summer day When the fires of August scorching have passed And humid heat on the...

By: Peter Coe Verbica On his deathbed he finally gave up the combination to the safe. But lean and laser-eyed, she still can’t drop that...

By: Clif Mason Ocean Canticle We choose not to leave the dream of the sea. Immortal jellies float, transparent as windows, in the water,...

By: Mark Pearce Never, never land, my ship, For now would be too late. I always dreamt someday you’d come, But my days were spent in...

By: Terri Hanauer Across the Room Lost in the snowstorm your shadow is translucent and I can hardly tell if I ever loved you back. The...

By: Amy Lerman The air so electric, dancing to snow, blurring space, rosed bushes, property lines, our own desert view a faded tableau....

By: Leila Farjami A wing, whiter than March clouds, a sighted star like a new and bright eye that has fallen to earth, landing beside...

By: Jeffrey Dreiblatt After September 11, I started a scrap book, pasting in profiles of people who died, known and unknown to me;...

By: Seth Simons Poem for Friends I like when it is one hundred degrees nothing bad has ever happened I am a goldfish all I remember...

By: M. Shayne Bell rose buds, pink and white, open . . . first images of Pluto flamingo-pink, a lake of it, into sky-blue . . . safari...

By: John Beck The Fisherman The nuns did everything they could to erase me, make me more like the white boys. When I pull my nets, the...

By: Dick Altman I Learn My Ute Name’s Wah-Ah You a runner? my Ute guide asks. Does it show? I reply, the first words between us. We’re...

By: Olga Gonzalez Latapi when thorns gather and smother and kill e- ven if i can- not breathe in this world sometime it is a curse to...

By: Joseph Byrd Expedition It isn’t clear which Solo cup of ouzo turned the river dark as we talked till twilight. In that fallen apse on...

By: Mistee St. Clair Let's Say There Are People Left And my bones are found by survivors of this pained land who have humps like camels...

By: Carina Stopenski white trash wife of a white trash man in the radioactive town that i called home, appalachian enough for struggling...

By: Benjamin Rose And thereupon my heart is driven wild: She stands before me as a living child. —Yeats Gul hui jaati hai afsurdah...