Art
It Is Not Here on Earth What I Am Seeking
Jack Micheline
I don’t know what I am seeking
In the cool night
rivers and birds
a sensuous lip
a rainbow of dreams
past waterfalls
the ruins of cities appear and fade in front of me
awkward man
he dresses and clowns
seeking lov...
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Poem
justin hott at the airport
Emily XYZ
Justin Hott was a retail analyst for Bear Stearns I met at LaGuardia airport one night
heading back to Detroit in December 2007, shortly before his company imploded.
What is the basis of greed / wanting to be free of ...
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Poem
Grass
J. D. King
(i love the scent
of fresh cut grass)
the mower is black
mostly
with bright orange
parts
illustration by JD King
no engine
to cut is to hear
the whir
of the reel
and to smell fresh cut
gra...
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Poem
(10.1.13 will never come again.)
Bonny Finberg
Take the gas mask off. Take a bath.
Take the cake. Take the China exit.
Hell is out there too,
Other people’s concern,
Gods’ voices, at it like grownups
In the front seat.
Photograph from the Wall Str...
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Art
Owls
John S. Hall
by This Fuckin' Guy (as told to John S. Hall)
Owls don’t seem so fucking wise to me.
They look like dicks, usually,
With their chests all puffed out and shit,
Like they’re saying
“Fuck me? No--fuck you!”
But ...
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Poem
on the b-38
steve dalachinsky
on the b-38
what are you waiting for / get covered / start here /
a gift of happiness or risky listening?
ya never can tell / drivin 26 yrs / 47 / nice humble guy
surprised / caught a heart attack / here today gone t...
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Poem
Plants at Work
Lynn McGee
Plants at Work
Sunflowers bob on a raft near Chernobyl,
roots leaching atoms humming with intent
to harm, but diffusing like sugar in the slow
surge of some big flower’s stalk,
its face tilting to follow the s...
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Poem
Two Poems by Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
AFTER YOU SAID I ALWAYS LOSE THINGS
The red birthstone fell
out of my ring, leaving
its crowned prongs empty,
a perfect chip chiseled
from my heart’s bones.
I dreamed being stopped by
the long dark walkway
w...
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Essay
Vladislav Khodasevich: Midlife Meltdown in Paris
Jenny Wade
During the unusually hot Parisian summer of 1924, 38-year-old Vladislav Khodasevich—regarded by Nabokov as the finest Russian poet since Blok—was suffering from an identity crisis. One of 3 million exiled from Soviet Rus...
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Poem
Silent Calls: Short Poems from Sparrow
Sparrow
Silent Calls
You know how sometimes the phone rings and when you answer it no one’s there? Many of those calls are made by cats.
Science Virgin
“I’m a science virgin,” said Adele. “I’ve n...
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Essay
Memory – New Translation of Pushkin’s Poem
Jenny Wade
Воспоминание
Когда для смертного умолкнет шумный день
И на немые стогны града
Полупрозрачная наляжет н...
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Poem
My Heart Is A Wiffle Ball Freedom Pole of Rumpleforeskin — for Kristen Stewart
Sharon Mesmer
My Heart Is A Wiffle Ball Freedom Pole of Rumpleforeskin
-- for Kristen Stewart
I reared your monkey penis sausage
You read my poetry at the nighttime elf race
Then scrawled neon squid across the horny thighs of ...
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Poem
Mayakovsky – New Translations
Jenny Wade
Маяковский в 1913 году
Я тебя в твоей не знала славе,
Помню только бурный твой рассвет,
Но, быть может, я сегодня впра...
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Poem
Time Now and Everything
Michael Randall
other nights I’ve heard it
just outside the window
fluttering in the dark, waiting
now I’m not convinced
the heart fails the spirit
sputters
all voices silent then choral music
on the radio quiet at first
b...
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Poem
The Good Shit & Presence: Rue Girardon
Pete Simonelli
The Good Shit
We were told the bubbles should look like little pebbles you could pour clean into your hand.
“Go on, shake it,”
said Peanut, junk dealer, mechanic, and feral-cat wrangler by day,
shiner by night.
...
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