Section » Poetry
3 poems by Douglas Cole
The Cave I use the theater as a place to duck away when I’m lost or high or too drunk to drive or otherwise can’t go home. Doesn’t matter what’s showing or what the weather is like or what time of day. I float on into the dark amniotic dreamhouse with its carpeted walls and sticky cement floors and plush rocking movie chairs and settle into
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3 poems by William Wade
New Muse Tonight it seems that I just cannot find two words that rhyme Damned Erato, fickle bitch I’ll show you what is which Out with you like worn-out shoes I’ve found myself another muse One who likes me and comes when I call This one’s not like you at all No, not like you at all, at all My
3 poems by Louis McKee
STATE’S WITNESS Maybe I was talking too much. Maybe I let it slip– I knew somebody, somebody who could get things done. St. Brigid, go gcuidímid. I guess I used to say it, dropping names, and I heard this one from my grandmother; she
3 poems by Jacqueline Nha Pham
Flor de Muerto The last time we saw Feliciana, she was on the cover of Suicide Girls, fully nude, a tattooed silhouette with a hand-scripted neck piece that reads: “Ich Bin, Je Suis, I am.” She was my favorite sobrina. The altar is full of Aztec marigolds, from sugared skulls to candied pumpkin, and
3 poems by Mather Schneider
Idiots Who Could Spit A lot of people live out in the sticks in the middle of the desert with tons of elbow room and fresh air and the stars raining down every night. Many of these country people think there is something wrong with me for living in the city, that I am naive and could never hack it living
2009 (a poem in 4 haiku) by Ariel Starling
"Icy" (photo by Flickr user Benson Kua) I. driving drunk, old blood scent of roses and burnt flesh screwdrivers, pull’d hair. II. bald liberation, blister-heat ambiguity black-wire moon, box’d wine. III. newcity stifled, listless
City of Stars by Karen Olden
"Top of the Rock" (photo by Flickr user Randy Lemoine) Old newspapers, Twisting and ducking On a gray, empty street Where lampposts send fingers of murky light Through and among the gathering shadows Searching
Istanbul Love by Peter Grieco
The Tunel trolley that burrows below Pera takes about seventy seconds once its enameled doors shut—long enough to focus on a single fleeting thought, borne on mute waves, like memory of a distant face in the wrangling crowd. Out on the Galata Bridge, I drink in the Bosporus air & breathe again its
2 poems by Tyrel Kessinger
Rustic Frog, Secret Of Life hair is thinning, the small of my back nettled, most of the time. the pale duffel bag of adipose I carry and call a stomach keeps growing, kicking with the pregnancy of sedentary life and the primal human urge to eat what is most easily accessible. and all these preservatives, they
2 poems by Dillon Mullenix
Dating the TV I get a little drunk and try to talk about literature and poetry and things not on television, and I am greeted with her listening while she plays with the dogs and screams and talks and changes her clothes and makes dinner for herself, she does everything else, but listen. I tell her so, and
