Michael Rothenberg

SKIN HEAD This planet needs more martyrs Yay martyrs! Sacrificed on the Altar of the Holy Beast For the sake of the Holy Dream! Poet Hang, E. 4th St. Ave. B, 1979, photograph by Philip Pocock Everybody kno...

D. Nurkse

Attrition When we were children our teacher explained the war. She drew it on the blackboard until her chalk squealed. The dust of her erasers made us cough. What had she drawn? Rommel’s pincer movements? The oval m...

Todd Colby

Brooklyn The trees in Brooklyn are the same color as cooked hamburger. I know the song of the cardinal and it goes a little something like this. Pangs twist a belly, until it dawns, eat! The light in early Decemb...

Alan Kaufman

THE SADDEST MAN ON EARTH... ...ignored how the rain felt as he left home for the last time Wore down his boot heels searching for the woman of his dreams, but never understood tha...

Valery Oisteanu

The Loneliness of a Lost Horseshoe I did not dream a broken bone, a hole in my foot But my limbs suffered from accidental falls Biographers would be seduced by my pain-blues I have shattered my toes, some of them twic...

William Lessard

Service Agreement The service provider does not guarantee, represent, or warrant that your use of the application will be uninterrupted or error-free. You agree that the service provider may cancel the service at any time...

Cliff Fyman

Taxi Night I WANT YOU TO STOP! Like don’t go with me! I’m sure it’s fine, maybe I don’t need to go, I don’t know, maybe I should just wait ‘till morning. Like I don’t know! If I wait another hour ...

Christopher Romero

No Blink In patched Victorian Iron Fast, fibrous, connected tendrils She closed her eyelids reflecting the rays of inspection The surface appears, sparkles, flattened day time fireworks Sideways tall marsh grass and c...

Thurston Moore

Rabo de Peixe What brings terror into your life nothing really It's a misunderstanding of nature A single plant of its own color, yellow ...

Charlotte Jackson

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn Turned out the man at the bar was a neighborhood guy; grew up around here, back in the day. He and Tim got talking about the bad old days, before “Bed Stuy, Do or Die” was a motto on a...