Zoe Kingsley

for me & them & us ZOE KINGSLEY I & it can happen in the house & it can happen in

Jennifer Fitzgerald

gators are trained to follow the whirring / fan so customers can snap / photo heat and haze / —as it dances the surface / like so many motes

Brooke Ellsworth

My cunts dropped in the ground. What mirror, right, in the ground. I want to see a mad choreography in the cell, I sweat out buildings.

Adrienne Raphel

The circus animals, dizzy / from the fumes of a million bucks’ / worth of fireworks, reel.

Jake Skakun

Hello neighbour. The cat's face comes quick / to the crack. Gord is a quiet prisoner. / I can't choke this wane and seep. / I sink all my electronics in bathwater.

Laura Villareal

Maybe if I could hold the sardine’s spine / gently, without breaking it, / it would become a pearl necklace clasped / to my throat as I speak the answer.

Ashley Opheim

you buy me 3 Subway cookies / and while sucking the butter out of them / I wonder how I can trust a culture / that manufactures idols?

Anna Meister

We rose to it, held ourselves tight. Remember / the talk of the tips of our blades? Didn’t you feel / softened in the parking lot?

Kasia Juno

When this island was first formed / the sand was darker / you explain this & other things / but I remember

Eva H.D.

Another still in / another album, or an / anywhere of dirt / your throatless a capella, / an electric song unplugged.

Ryann Stevenson

Because it only takes one—there were three—they dragged her—by the hair—because the meadow—unaware and typical—durum-gold—because a horse

Alysia Nicole Harris

Home como ancla, no como cadenas, rather you as a worm, hooked / in a little fishing village by the sea / away from the desert calling / the iguanas Mother, though they could give you no suck.

Sara Ann Sütterlin

I’m slumped down into my deck chair. / I feel fuzzy; allergy medicine high. My / mother and I are having dinner: two / wine glasses clink together.

Sarah Jean Grimm

I steal fresh palms from my neighbors / And swirl these together in a saucepan / To keep pests from coming in

Soren Stockman

It is all we have to account for the missing mass in the orbital velocity / of stars that Joseph-called-John connects on his bedroom wall.

Pui Ying Wong

Flakes drop from your pajamas— / The sky is furry. / Damp air fiddles like rumors / until thick with fidelity.

Lucian Mattison

Sunlight flickers between their tiny legs, / and now I envy them from a distance, too.

Michelle Lin

It's the best I can do—to catch myself if I fall, to not break my teeth.

Ashley-Elizabeth Best

We wrestle at the limits of forgiveness, always more to say that's not worth the saying.

Lauren Hilger & Kay Cosgrove

To anyone who’s ever walked around it, to anyone there right now, lay down your stones, the pyramid does not point north.

Adam Tedesco

The truth about the coat I traded half my records for

Anna Margolin

Here I have wept. Mold on the walls, roar of the hard, divine sentence on the weak and the lost.

Lisa Hiton

It was supposed to be harmless, so you act / like it’s harmless. The smell of vanilla and thyme / in the crook of your neck where skin meets hair.

Derrick Austin

There is a roof one man’s body makes over another. Pine needles on sharp grains. This is what I remember.

Natalie Eilbert

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

Klara du Plessis

Feminists fuck like a real man You’re always unfastening buttons you don’t need to.

Gillian Sze

(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.”)

Annik Adey-Babinski

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

Adele Barclay

I pick plums from a tree in your backyard for breakfast and brush the fur off with my nightgown.

Greg Santos

I misread “so many people killing it this month” as “so many people killing this month.”

Diana Khoi Nguyen

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.

Polina Barskova

Dawn outside his chambers disintegrates, retreats, Anxious, breath unwholesome, like the stricken man.

Richie Hofmann

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

Cornelius Eady

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

Alex Dimitrov

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


indulgence analogous to / being open by morning / fall forward / fall conjuring / tell the farmer we / cannot taste his / milk but wish to

Monica McClure

Do I want to look good? / Or do I want to look rich, and if not rich, taken care of? / Of course, erotics troubles this

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