Jamie Mortara | Poetry

what do i call it when you get us beers and assure me that everything's fine and we never talk about it ever again?

Jamie Mortara | Poetry2018-12-11T00:28:39-04:00

Maurisa Thompson | Poetry

little boy drags his belly across the yellow grass, squeaks it like a violin. arms out, pretends he is a ship or airplane

Maurisa Thompson | Poetry2018-11-25T03:14:58-04:00

Samantha Bares | Poetry

Where are you in my delusions? With any luck, I narrate you into diver cobbler or blacksmith, a village treasure. Behold—offstage, the forest crone spinning blind for no one.

Samantha Bares | Poetry2018-11-25T03:15:56-04:00

Valerie Hsiung | Poetry


Valerie Hsiung | Poetry2018-11-25T03:17:52-04:00

Max Cohen | Poetry

and you told me you hated my cigarettes but missed me very much and I tried to say the same thing back but couldn’t stop coughing.

Max Cohen | Poetry2018-11-25T03:19:38-04:00

Laura Willwerth | Poetry

Republican Presidential Debate, August 6, 2015, Cleveland, Ohio Republican Presidential Debate, September 16, 2015, Simi Valley, California

Laura Willwerth | Poetry2018-11-25T03:20:30-04:00

Brynne Rebele-Henry | Poetry

Angry girls, say all our neck-bearded uncles: assholes, we say of them ‘Bout them teeth, say our mommies and their endless Tampax-lilted Marlboros

Brynne Rebele-Henry | Poetry2018-11-25T03:21:05-04:00

Kristin Chang | Poetry

Cut the meat / to release its ghosts / Trade yourself / for a girl / who thinks meat is making / a comeback. In / fifth grade my teacher called me / a chink in the armor /

Kristin Chang | Poetry2018-11-25T03:23:57-04:00

Thomas Cook | Poetry

An assault on the stationary floor. The gathering middle. Pray the field clean. Ceramic salsify lies in light. Velvet falcon buttoned in pearls. To your mouth.

Thomas Cook | Poetry2018-11-25T03:24:26-04:00

Rae Paris | Poetry

I don’t why she did this, says my mother on the phone, she must have...I don’t know..., and I know by now to wait.

Rae Paris | Poetry2018-11-25T03:25:15-04:00

Chloe Firetto-Toomey | Poetry

Do you remember eating Scottish oysters in Kew Gardens, the bridge overhead? It was Valentine’s Day, light shifted through the Victorian greenhouse.

Chloe Firetto-Toomey | Poetry2018-11-25T03:26:12-04:00

Jessie Knoles | Poetry

i cry because snakes don’t deserve to get shot for just being snakes i can swim with them, it’s okay, just put me in that spot

Jessie Knoles | Poetry2018-11-25T03:27:57-04:00

Marcus Slease | Poetry

Flag prayers to the wind. Jean pulls up her black hoody. You have to protect your face from the wind sez Mina. The cold wind can damage the skin’s barrier.

Marcus Slease | Poetry2018-11-25T03:28:41-04:00

Aziza Barnes | Poetry

let’s lay hands on her said the lord. let’s lay hands on her said the soror. let’s lay hands on her said the black man.

Aziza Barnes | Poetry2019-01-08T13:59:54-04:00

Hannah Beresford | Poetry

Sweet orange almond crumbs stuck to my sweater front as I wobbled into the dining room—having eaten all the leftover naan, flat-out in a stupor on the couch.

Hannah Beresford | Poetry2018-12-27T01:55:30-04:00

Raena Shirali | Poetry

to burning—if i light the sari on the clothesline—if there are many saris hung hem to hem—if they pass the flame like an infant : hem to hem—

Raena Shirali | Poetry2018-12-27T01:58:39-04:00

Tanis Franco | Poetry

on second thought i tried something that was not. i brought my camera thinking i would take beautiful pictures, it was a place to take beautiful pictures. i felt a need to try and capture these.

Tanis Franco | Poetry2018-12-27T02:01:24-04:00

Victoria Kornick | Poetry

Last night there was a fountain in the park, and my friend said it’s less a fountain than a body covered in water.

Victoria Kornick | Poetry2018-12-27T02:03:07-04:00

Halie Theoharides | Poetry

*FINAL ROSE is a book-length poem / a body of images / a collection of screenshots taken by Halie Theoharides while watching episodes of The Bachelor. FINAL ROSE will be out from Mount Analogue next fall.

Halie Theoharides | Poetry2018-11-25T03:36:54-04:00

Virginia McLure | Poetry

He shows us his backyard, roosters, limes, a coconut tree, dasheen, aloe like spiked tails. One, I can sell for $50, he says. We ride in a blue-painted boat to the island of birds.

Virginia McLure | Poetry2018-11-25T03:37:33-04:00

Jeremy Radin | Poetry

I’ll be here / slipping on the peels / laughing / slipping on the peels / laughing / practicing for your arrival / a word about what you are afraid of / maybe / meet me here / I am so lonely

Jeremy Radin | Poetry2018-11-25T03:40:19-04:00

E.C. Belli | Two Poems

FIELD GUIDE TO ONENESS It does not begin in an empty room, as one would expect. The field you are standing in does not look onto nothing. In fact,

E.C. Belli | Two Poems2018-12-27T02:04:18-04:00

Chelsey Shannon | Poetry

black medulla “I emulate the black which is a cry but which is not voluptuary like a warning, which has lines, cuts, drips, aspirates, trembles with horror, O black

Chelsey Shannon | Poetry2018-12-27T02:05:20-04:00

Sarah Nichols | Poetry

On Taking Up a Matryoshka Doll Collection All the people I am missing Are stacked matryoshka doll style inside you LOST: LAVENDER AT THE KITCHEN SINK. STEMS FRAYED. Everyone

Sarah Nichols | Poetry2018-12-27T02:06:00-04:00

Tommy Pico | Poetry

NATURE POEM from Nature Poem When a star dies, it becomes any number of things like a black hole, or a documentary. The early universe of our skin was

Tommy Pico | Poetry2018-12-27T02:07:23-04:00

Stephon Lawrence | Poetry

//a spooky mulder field day i want to meet these aliens. it’s strange that i haven’t. have they landed? i hear a balding man call this tiny woman an

Stephon Lawrence | Poetry2018-12-27T02:09:05-04:00

Leslie Shipman | Poetry

At the Sculpture Museum As a child my mother broke the soft wall of my face .....................................The curvilinear of my torn cheek .....................................the model of an arc .....................................floating beneath

Leslie Shipman | Poetry2018-12-27T02:09:52-04:00

Zoe Kingsley | Poetry

for me & them & us I & it can happen in the house & it can happen in the pub & it can be in the dinner conversation

Zoe Kingsley | Poetry2018-12-27T02:11:58-04:00

Jennifer Fitzgerald | Poetry

Everglades in High Heat mangroves like finger bones dipping into tea stained water warped and bent gators are trained to follow the whirring fan so customers can snap photo

Jennifer Fitzgerald | Poetry2018-12-27T02:12:30-04:00

Brooke Ellsworth | Poetry

RED washing down decongestants with cold coffee reading ur glistening emails just a free-floaty fragment without a torso as if what I was possessed by was your missing arm

Brooke Ellsworth | Poetry2018-12-27T02:13:04-04:00

Adrienne Raphel | Poetry

THE RINGMASTER for CK Williams The ringmaster, gaunt in his overalls, seventeen feet tall with a cigarette, leans on the big top. The lions are early, the tamer, late.

Adrienne Raphel | Poetry2018-12-27T02:13:49-04:00

Jake Skakun | Poetry

Winter in the Wismar 1 Rain bloats the city, sets my marrow to wax. My neighbour's beard is stained an ochre O. I rarely leave. The shrill birds echo

Jake Skakun | Poetry2018-12-27T02:14:37-04:00

Laura Villareal | Poetry

SARDINE SPINE Never have I seen vertebrae so small, so white like a strand of pearls without luster, unclasped. The spine is tenuous, made for a touch more tender

Laura Villareal | Poetry2018-12-27T02:15:12-04:00

Ashley Opheim | Poetry

QUIET INDUSTRY I am sucking on pearls and roasting pears on my body. the vibrant splendour of lilac season is fleeting as a love affair leaves me lush and

Ashley Opheim | Poetry2018-12-27T02:15:58-04:00

Anna Meister | Poetry

FROM NOTHING GRANTED who wants to be                                    why God doesn’t come her neck

Anna Meister | Poetry2018-12-27T02:16:49-04:00

Kasia Juno | Poetry

ON LEAVING BERLIN I sold all my books for a rock of butter and a glass of almond milk A rock and an almond traded for all those hours

Kasia Juno | Poetry2018-12-27T02:17:48-04:00

Eva HD | Poetry

LOGICAL POSITIVISM Oh, these gorgeous days, whatever's the opposite of pathetic fallacy. The glorious milkdrop sun; the walnut heart's rotten meat. . HERON If only I were a heron,

Eva HD | Poetry2018-12-27T02:18:32-04:00

Ryann Stevenson | Poetry

FUCKING DAFFODILS I turned off. Leaky spout my mind was. I turned off and kept the lights on while I slept. We fucked like deer in prairie grass: camouflaged,

Ryann Stevenson | Poetry2018-12-27T02:19:28-04:00

Alysia Nicole Harris | Poetry

CUPIO DISSOLVI a 30 ft. statue of the magyar riding horseback and my sister climbs it in a flimsy party dress panties showing hoists herself right up the tail

Alysia Nicole Harris | Poetry2018-12-27T02:20:53-04:00

Sara Ann Sütterlin | Poetry

excerpt from Baveuse (2015), available at Electric Cereal WOMEN WRINKLE You have to be passive to wear Silk . Touching Louise Bourgeois’s spider sculpture was exciting, almost sexual. Ryan didn’t

Sara Ann Sütterlin | Poetry2018-12-27T02:22:27-04:00

Erin Lyndal Martin | Poetry

Fireflies of the Apocalypse It seems natural that I should want to keep my blood, want teeth and closed circles here in lakefront country. I step into the cool

Erin Lyndal Martin | Poetry2018-12-27T02:23:03-04:00

Owen Lucas | Poetry

510 Permanence of five o'clock At the in-laws', tired Sunday, Where the light rams down Into soupy, roadside weed, Where the chickadees chatter about A sop of misty seed:

Owen Lucas | Poetry2018-12-27T02:29:34-04:00

Lauren Winchester | Poetry

CONTINUATION A trend of weather emerges: decomposition. The lake is frozen now, the fish strangled. Any weeds, any green there was, flattened by a cap of glass. The fallen

Lauren Winchester | Poetry2018-12-27T02:30:09-04:00

Sarah Jean Grimm | Three Poems

EARLY EVOLUTION Be a doll now, you say, and I am become one I pluck a flock raw for its plumage Strip, I say, and birds strip bare I

Sarah Jean Grimm | Three Poems2018-12-27T02:30:46-04:00

Soren Stockman | Poetry

Elephant Man: Dark Matter Joseph-called-John moves between the pillars on the stage to glimpse the pixies in the lights before him. He creeps close to them and asks every

Soren Stockman | Poetry2018-12-27T02:31:43-04:00

Pui Ying Wong | Poetry

SO GROUNDED For Irene Koronas I cling to objects, for example: a leather-bound book, almanacs, sprigs of dried mints. I would like to build a museum like Pamuk has

Pui Ying Wong | Poetry2018-12-27T02:32:48-04:00

Lucian Mattison | Poetry

SAND PIPERS Chuck clamshells at them for acting mindlessly, these little joggers in bird suits, talons tapping the glass tabletop of ocean spill. They chirp, bicycle miles of sine

Lucian Mattison | Poetry2018-12-27T02:33:40-04:00

Christopher Dollard | Poetry

Blue sparks flash through the windows of the sleepless as the last train scrapes the elevated rails and rumbles away into the glowing orange dark.

Christopher Dollard | Poetry2018-12-27T02:39:54-04:00

K.T. Billey | Poetry

About craving, about arthritic haunches on big dogs the distance between childhood and that second thigh

K.T. Billey | Poetry2018-11-25T02:21:03-04:00

Lisa Hiton | Poetry

MAHLER’S NINTH Gone, the pile of shut black mouths bowled in cold water. Gone the thyme and tang of shallot, as the garlic burns in the oil. They whir

Lisa Hiton | Poetry2018-11-25T02:21:43-04:00

Natalie Eilbert | Poetry

My carriage spills waste. Brown lachrymose blood along crotchlines. My carriage spills waste. Metabolized yellow.

Natalie Eilbert | Poetry2018-12-27T02:38:43-04:00

Gillian Sze | Poetry

(A skilled calligrapher will tell you that they should “give the impression of a sail filled by the wind.” But a poor first stroke, and the others will “look like lost cotton wads tossed by the wind.”)

Gillian Sze | Poetry2018-11-25T02:26:15-04:00

Annik Adey-Babinski | Poetry

Never past the pink concrete altar where roasted the Christmas pig Never under a hush, slipping off my shoes, letting you check the door first

Annik Adey-Babinski | Poetry2018-11-24T15:06:54-04:00

Taylor Collier | Poetry

I wanted it to be like a movie where interrogation leads to advanced interrogation and what you learn in school

Taylor Collier | Poetry2018-11-25T02:34:08-04:00

Diana Khoi Nguyen | Poetry

He is ryegrass. The voices of his heart like tensed wings; ripples in the serum of a stoppered vial. Death is the only word in any language sleeping won't spoil.

Diana Khoi Nguyen | Poetry2018-11-24T15:06:45-04:00

Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach | Poetry

the body so like surgeons or Michelangelo we dissected dogs and cats and called it art and took our pictures with the work and turned this fear to wonder

Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach | Poetry2018-11-25T02:32:21-04:00

Richie Hofmann | Poetry

I hadn’t been able to read it in the darkness of the hall. The train was late, all the blueness was becoming gold.

Richie Hofmann | Poetry2018-11-25T02:04:09-04:00

Jessica Scicchitano | Poetry

Ladies, this license plate is your journal, an everlasting ticket up a Northern route where you’ll still have access to electroshock therapy through some faux forest in the middle of the US.

Jessica Scicchitano | Poetry2018-10-22T15:20:09-04:00

Cornelius Eady | Poetry

Where the way this combo tongue and squeeze the air tells me it’s John C’s b’day-O yes; he had a nice place on Long Island

Cornelius Eady | Poetry2018-11-25T02:01:45-04:00

Alex Dimitrov | Poetry

Past the stone angel heads and over the calm brutes, the freeway thins and wears white like a patient tonight.

Alex Dimitrov | Poetry2018-11-25T02:00:50-04:00

CA Conrad | Poetry

a wayward protein bloodletting from unforeseen orifice gathers us to elongated grass-fed hours

CA Conrad | Poetry2018-11-24T15:13:20-04:00

Monica McClure | Poetry

TENDER DATA Inquiries feel like enemas What is it called when your fist blooms inside someone The civilization I live in has lost its purpose so I turn to

Monica McClure | Poetry2018-11-03T00:33:49-04:00