sometimes i can hear your voice in the voices of un-stranged strangers. in between my forgetting my steel-headed self-truth, you wait. you tell me i’m far from home.
Outside my window Creeping across the ground Covering the trees there’s a early-morning blanket of Fog You hide behind a screen well Grey bubble ellipses Grey walls of apology Behind your glass and LEDs you tether together letters into words and words into sentences You craft paragraphs with grace But in presence you’re phantom Slightly … Continue reading "At Least You Found Your Wallet by Dane Tillman"
There is a stench in the air Aged cigarette smoke, maybe Soaked into ancient walls of oak Or is it pine? The patter of rain on the thin roof above Dark figures in frames One on each wall What is this place? A single candle illuminates the room It sits upon a coffee … Continue reading "Where am I? by Nick Hummel"
He was as grandiloquent as the word grandiloquent overly verbose and painfully engrossed in the putrid sweetness of his ego that he reeked of— “It’s a new scent by Dior” he told me winking, sinking his perfumed fingers into the fire of my mind. But what pissed me off the most about that overdose … Continue reading "Classmate by Polina Yakovleva"
The light dances along my fingertips And I curl my hand around its rays to Catch its golden stream. From my hand it drips And stains the table with its yellow hue. I pull the darkness around me and wear The shadows and the nightfall like a cloak Stardust falls like snow and slips off … Continue reading "Endless Sonnet by Kate Sims"
I’m the girl who picks the tattered, grandpa-worn flannel over the new one Because it always seems to keep me warmer on winter days. If you come with me to Walmart I’ll hunt down a Crayola box Open it and touch its chiseled teeth Take in the scent of new, waxy pigment Just waiting … Continue reading "1000 Gifts by Kayla Barnes"
Sink into me like a grave I am the tired home you’ve made out of the pull and release of our Mother Earth that we mistake for waves. And I pray it’s not too late to remind you that it’s okay to let your filth into me; I’ll still be here anyway.
Darkness A deep breath Drops of sweat fall from my brow Eyes closed Silence Soft light Warming glow Heat radiating from above Staring at my feet White noise Spotlight Blinding glare Feet moving through rehearsed steps All eyes on me Chatter Fading Silhouettes in motion Judgement forming in minds A curtain call Applause Darkness A … Continue reading "Performance by Nick Hummel"
Something more tender than metaphor I can tell she’s looking for some thing more tender than metaphor—a shimmering textual cylinder, a shelf of self-help run thru a chipper- shredder, a New York Times best-seller — Ownmost i like any thing that lights up on its own— cats’ eyes, children’s sneakers, the sun— when the baby … Continue reading "3 Poems by Marianna Hagler"
Once I had a fascination with men fighting one another. Fists hitting cheeks, hitting stomachs. They would be fighting for honor, theirs or mine — it didn’t matter. But the animal that wins the dogfight does not curl up next to you and lick your wounds after it has just decimated a body. That dry … Continue reading "Fists by Diana Richtman"