Stories
Poetry
Still it’s true I began as they did the ones she kept: newt-like moonish
Poem of the Week
I pass my hands over my eyes, mired by the miti-
gation of routine.
gation of routine.
Poetry
Love I know is the husk caught and throbbing under your gums.
Poem of the Week
There’s nothing left to do but crush the garlic, check the water on the stove.
Poem of the Week
The cherry tree’s trance of petals tumbled bit by bit to the sidewalk.
Poetry Contest Winners
A painter dies of a heart attack before finishing a portrait of Churchill.
Poetry
Everything changed. And to our greater shame, nothing did.
Poetry
There it was, the urge to hurt one’s neck by craning toward the dazzle.
Poetry
To enter the dust of their bedroom, to stand invisible on the plush carpet.
Poem of the Week
What that truth is doesn’t matter, finally, because of your persistence.
Poetry
Knowing that it will end i saw myself again at the fair popping balloons
Poem of the Week
ConEd drills the street to dendrites, tapping morse at the old house.
Poem of the Week
Heat heat and the sky a flame of sapphire, even rocks blazing.
Poem of the Week
We boarded a ferry eager for foaming water rushing toward our feet.
Poetry
Fidel narrates the home video: See the women on the beach? Beauty.
Poem of the Week
Staring down the barrel of a black gun I forget I’m no longer just a boy.
Poetry
I was tracing my finger along his hoodied back, to draw the route.
Poem of the Week
We claw over earth, unfurling flowers, knit so close we know power.
Poem of the Week
Let us not forget the desuetude of nailed-shut carousels.
Poetry
David, I don’t know how to say this, but I didn’t think you’d make it.
Poem of the Week
I was born hating paths, apostasy. We came alive wrong for union.
Poem of the Week
Puppets share wine. A dog dressed in a red gown growls.
Poem of the Week
The places in between places are like countries themselves.
Poetry
I have never seen a bird, but I tell stories of creatures that walk the sky.
Poem of the Week
Surrender me to shallows and the salt gallop of a rising surf.
Poem of the Week
That’s how we knew our belonging and how we knew it wouldn’t last.
Poem of the Week
And jesse, the smart bombs do not recognize the babies.
Poetry
Please look away from Mars dangling so angry in so much darkness.
