Summer, Corpus Christie by Joddy Murray These cobblestone foreheadspeppered in long genetic lines—like head ivy, like finger flowers—pocked in 7th grade and contended:now find a landing strip for my bicycleor throw once more the rusted hatchetinto unfinished garage walls. Sweatfills all these ridges, drips ontosage-green, plastic saladbowls used for corn…
Read MoreTwo Poems by Amy Hassinger When Asked to Clean Your Room “Come see my museum,” you say,and you lead me, a hand on my arm,to your window seat,where you have arranged your collection of treasures,each grouping labeled in careful ballpoint printon a folded piece of notebook paper. There are…
Read MoreSpark by Jed Myers Restless at night, I stepped out on the deck. High in the black between a blink and the next, a bright orange speck streaked _ left-to-right on an earthward slant. It burned out before it could reach the treetops, before I could think two words for…
Read MoreBirds Without Music by Christopher Locke 5,000 red-winged blackbirdsrain unbidden from an Arkansassky like trench coats shot to pieces,streets and lawns ankle-deep in littlebodies. A white-crested laughingthrush bloated under a scrim of wastewater at the Miami Zoo, its blackstreak across the eyes like an homageto Annie Lennox until I reconsider,sure…
Read MoreNo Limits by David Subacchi What use dry stonesdug from hard soilto be piled one on another.Sheep pay little attention. They observe no limits.We mark wooland clip earsfor convenience. But they go where they willclambering overall obstructionson empty hillsides. Bleating their protestsweaker than birdsongor the humof passing traffic. Why speak…
Read MoreElegy for the Ignorance of Nudity by Kristina Martino originally published in Bateau Literary Magazine To put things in perspective, the cosmos is commonplace,comprising a similar politics of implosions and cease-fires and expansion. As such, the earth is a placard that defaces the grandscale and I live there and…
Read MoreThe Problem With Amy Winehouse by John Vieira Some days I find myself missing everyone I’ve ever known, I’m sorry. I offer them my mistakes as recompense. An indicator of how hard you were hit is not necessarily the colors of your bruise. like two spread legs pointing to the…
Read MoreThis Morning by Jess Williard Muffled grind of snow plows, squirrels chirpingof discovered warmth in the walls of the house. White-packed lawns have already inflatedthe day. How open it is patterned to be filled in with cold light. How without repose. What thingsI could scare enough to crawl inside me.…
Read MoreAn Exercise in Staring at the Ceiling and Contemplating Divorce By P.L. Sanchez Focus on the fan. Watch the blades, spinning in circles. They want us to believe they’re an army. Smart. We know it’s a covert operation, a five-blade job. Those blades can spin, yes, they can. Focus on…
Read MoreTwo Poems by Jen Karetnick Marching Band Perp Walk You never forget the way you’re taught to tread: Gaze straight ahead. Limbs on alert. Feet barely lifted, a watery shuffle. Toe to heel, toe to heel, a needle through the arch, threading the seams of the path in front…
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