We believe students and readers everywhere deserve a great and free modern library, inside of which they can get deliriously, entertainingly, profoundly lost. And found.
Poetry
Poem of the Week
Take some cherry tomatoes, I say when the moon rises over the pine.
Poetry
so easily impressed when wet / so easy / to see through when turned / off
Poem of the Week
On a jet stream, unearthly, air can travel at hundreds of miles per hour.
Poem of the Week
The hymn that’s resurrected from the hymnal aspires to the spiritual.
Poem of the Week
The fantasy & its own undoing: that silver might drip from a neck bitten.
Poem of the Week
I hand in my form. I wonder if the doctor with the needles will laugh at me.
iPoems
He pretended he was in his boat, his cellmate’s flushing, Arctic Ocean.
Poetry
Small valleys and veins give way to a lifted ridge like a rib or an arm bone.
Poetry
A man drunk on the damage he made to a boy’s young mouth.
Poem of the Week
& I said let there be dark pouring from your mouth at daybreak
Poem of the Week
Warm breath in my ear mouthing a name; rivulet folded back in water.
Poem of the Week
In its shadow, our mislaid secrets cascade down around us.
Poetry
My dear, even my ear is trying to eat itself in its attempt to forget you.
Poem of the Week
I needed more. I worked her lips back and wedged my hand in.
Poetry
She was gone then, inaudible, steeple-reticent, demure as sky.
Poem of the Week
I continue composing my love letter, hoping to love her more.
Poetry
There is a lot about others I don’t remember, outliving an interest.
Poem of the Week
Sometimes one does wade into it or is ambushed as by a incensed fog.
iPoems
You are with outsized footnotes that have tracked across the Internet.
Poem of the Week
It began last spring / Flowers blooming like crazy / No balm to our fear
Poem of the Week
How do wheels and wind-trash weave us into wakefulness?
Poem of the Week
As a shadow I arouse you will you believe the truth of my mouth.
Poem of the Week
Put out to pasture, flop down into clover, alternate to the glue factory.
Poem of the Week
It is like the call of a voice the call of a voice that is not there.
Poem of the Week
I have many dreams, I say. In my dreams I am better than myself.
Poetry
I remember a field too long as the stem of a pear chosen in Upstate.
Poem of the Week
The one who sold me a smuggled gun sold me smuggled bullets.
iPoems
In the garden this morning, I thought for a moment I saw T’ao Ch’ien.
