Poetry MRI Let’s talk about, the giant tube, the ways & all the permutations to keep one’s cool. & by goes through & by cool I mean screaming until the lady I don't know where the idea originated, but turns out Or so says the lady & I
Poetry Time Capsule The shape of her hands is the shape of my longing as she digs into the earth. She finds the small toys that burrowed into the soil next to the vegetables. In her kitchen, she cradles the cut from the knife, her sister brought
Poetry the calculus of dusk it has been a problem of numbers in rows like sunflowers their sum differences the size of a space of a letter to be apart instead of a part in isolation we had to watch the unthinkable like tiger king and the deer walking
Poetry equinox in big sur i. dawn under redwoods looks like deep night; any change of light is obscured by one thousand years of silent perseverance– burn marks slashed across maroon trunks, the patient stalwart
Issue 3 - Searching Jamais Poet’s Note I first realized that I was a multiracial person in kindergarten. When my mother came to eat lunch with me one day at school, her presence bewildered some of the other children. Many asked me afterwards if I was adopted. One
Issue 3 - Searching Terrain Haven't I shared all my memories already? Sweated into ink the anchored years When the sun drove us like a team of plough-horses through the summer sky? No, I’ve kept a few things back, fears now half-forgotten, loves remembered always but never acted
Issue 3 - Searching To J— Your browser does not support the audio element. Poet’s Note I never sent this letter to J– because it wasn’t written for him. I wrote it for S–, for me, and for anyone else searching for healing after a bad romance. People
Issue 3 - Searching Lost & Found Shh, shh, shh... Breezes caper in the dogwoods; white petals twirl onto the sidewalk. The air smells green, and sweet, and forgiving. Shh, shh, shh... White wicker rocker creaks in the gloaming. My sister moves her downy head into the blanket and breast. She
Issue 3 - Searching On My Mother's Passing Your mellow touch has gone, off with the Blue, red flashing lights that came for you on That day. I hadn't noticed life being taken From you, seized a little bit too rudely, S0 quietly in the morning, the days, nights, I feel the
Issue 3 - Searching Things I Need to Know I do want hope, belief in intercession. That my children, if in need, could expect bread. To know them is to know the dirt -engrained lines of their shoeless feet as they belly sprawl over coloring books. Just one state over, a blue newborn
Issue 2 - Recovery Wake Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author evolución inversa: volvemos al mar. —Raquel Salas Rivera Meanwhile, wondering what I can say back. We understand behind the lagoon are mangroves. Insisting tsunami never happens, whispers. Inaudibly, maybe the voice of
Issue 2 - Recovery Brood X Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author I. Rising periodic into tropic heat— to bleat, to touch, to die— scaling these oaks, whipping their drums til love, the first intelligence, comes to save them— they slip their aspiring offspring
Issue 2 - Recovery Gold Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author —after Leon Wyczółkowski's painting, “Spring in Gościeradz” i. We speak of art, as we make our trip. We speak against erasure. You thumb through a tattered volume of lesser-known painters as we
Issue 2 - Recovery ‘Voy a hablar de la esperanza’ Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author Ruth, you are angry at the world for its miscarriages. It is early November and we are walking again in the Haagse Bos, wondering at the rusty-headed ducks, the yellowing of the
Issue 2 - Recovery Two Poems by Nina Murray Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author In my great-grandmother's time there was a tool for everything and for every tool—a toolbox hers was not an ill-fit universe—worn yes but orderly in her room I played with
Issue 2 - Recovery Bill's Lorica Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author Let Go the Burden of Being Upright (The Purple Quilt) (2021) by Margaret Sloan | Watercolor on paper | 11.5 x 11.5 inchesin the sparkling northwoods blue-green today we gather warmth of
Issue 2 - Recovery Put the girl on the shore Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author Let her alone with the currents to the eager tide’s, pull of ebb and gift of flow to prayers of driftwood and seaweed notes. Leave her to the lash of marram,
Issue 2 - Recovery Dawn in a Grove Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author As light reenters the forest space: a slow, steady rousing to consciousness. The thin liquid of night stirs, lifting. Silence, the stately forms of trees. The low ferns flutter slightly, wafting skyward,
Issue 2 - Recovery Digression Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author The temple’s mystery is this: somehow, I remembered the same music for ten years. Not its notes— I could only play the right keys if playing fast enough; if giving up
Issue 2 - Recovery Wake I. My living room smells of the marsh at low tide, seaweed arid in the sun. Hermit crabs recede in the silt as the salt water runs back to its home, leaving a layer of detritus and sludge on my mom’s favorite rug.
Issue 1 - Transition I consider a chestnut Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author There is a project for the sun. The sun Must bear no name, gold flourisher, but be In the difficulty of what it is to be. —Wallace Stevens, “Notes Toward a Supreme
Issue 1 - Transition another kind of maiden voyage Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author it might have been a menacing sky that greeted him in new york in 1938. if it spoke in english he did not understand. his tongue was polish polish polish. he didn’
Issue 1 - Transition Rounding Error Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author There's a quiet power to those I saw Jesus in my toast stories. Stunned devotees posing alongside burnt bread all holy and humorless. To think, one morning they awoke and willed their
Issue 1 - Transition Ukarumpa Your browser does not support the audio element. Reading by the author I am the red, red stain. – Michael Dom No matter what I make and unmake here With these hands, there will always be that snake And that tree where those four rivers
Issue 0 - Liminal Space Field Notes From The In-Between The spring the coronavirus hit I would sit. Next to my window with a cup of green teaTrying to be mindful, self-consciously watching the firstLeaves on the six saplings outside of my windowExpanding and multiplying by the dayAs the morning sun leapt over the horizon,Lighting up the field like a
