Category: Poetry

Issue 22 | Summer 2019

Early Morning Rain

By | Poetry

Even though my neighbor's car was stolen, and she has cancer or has had cancer, and now the street has an absence in it, like a missing tooth.

Issue 22 | Summer 2019

The North

By | Poetry

You blink back so many red veils // so often they stop being blood. The fur / of your parka becomes indistinguishable / from your own hair.

Issue 22 | Summer 2019

Moth

By | Poetry

I am flexible and flickable, buoyant, / pulpable. These are my only truths. / And the golden rail down my back // like a wick of fire.

Issue 22 | Summer 2019

Annuals

By | Poetry

Gossamer horizon. The trees are less dense with their colors / than last year. Still, what might be called splendor. // Or slippage. Through slight gaps in our fingers, we watch / a gathering sky...

Issue 21 | Winter 2019

Neutral Blood

By | Poetry

The children have no idea where the passages / lead, whether other routes to the surface exist, / and which branches might contain breathable / air.

Issue 21 | Winter 2019

Every Day New Valleys

By | Poetry

Start the game. / Remove your clothes. / Put your hands on your body.

Issue 21 | Winter 2019

A Brief History of the Soft Drink

By | Poetry

In chapter one, the history / of the soft drink, Joseph Priestly, / who discovered oxygen, lived / near here.

Issue 21 | Winter 2019

Testimony

By | Poetry

In the middle of the night / they woke nude as newborn rats / vascular, milky and afraid