Poetry
Poetry
I say aria, scale of the day, weigh each square foot she’s kept up.
iPoems
A field. No clouds. Tall grasses bend toward the foreground.
Poem of the Week
“Pick your switch,” says my father and I’m stepping out into the forest.
Poem of the Week
The citizens of Aunay believed Pierre Rivière batshit, dimwitted.
Poem of the Week
The Renaissance mastered the illusion of depth on a flat plane.
Poem of the Week
Before we too vanish, we hike to where three trails converge.
Poem of the Week
I do not expunge the past but ignite the fuse to a whistling pinwheel.
Poem of the Week
Who know fear is an aphrodisiac & nothing is scarier than time.
Poem of the Week
Lucy Liu, you show me I can come to fruition and yellow on my own terms.
Poem of the Week
Once I took it in my mouth, I had to admit pity tastes like sandwiches.
Poem of the Week
The notebook’s cotton pages are spangled with axes and sickles.
Poem of the Week
I didn’t want to start a poem with night where there should be a name.
Poetry
I wanted just to like chemistry, because my teacher hailed from Georgia.
Poem of the Week
It’s life that is hard: sleeping, eating, loving, and dying are easy.
Poetry
you here and these words also here meeting in your shared beauty
Poem of the Week
Why don’t we just get drunk and walk down the middle of Fifth Avenue.
Poem of the Week
I have so many questions for you, for you are closer to me than anyone.
Poetry
Death is our common ancestor. It doesn’t care who we have dined with.
Poem of the Week
Grandfather advised me: learn a trade. I learned to sit at a desk.
Poem of the Week
Imagine first the mighty blast. And then the mushroom cloud.
Poem of the Week
We were both up there smoking weed and axle grease, blinded.
Poetry
Under Saint Peter’s Gate, I put good foot after bad, and derided, I chased.
Poetry
Finger tracing the terrain, you hold me through autumn’s loss of color.
Poetry
You’ll learn to love the spoil, the apple’s softest flesh, the bruise.
Poetry
she thrust to where her gut bucked acid & gave out a taurine heave
Poetry Contest Winners
I see now that motherhood is not required to speak a mother tongue.
Poetry
cannibal chowder and a kiss by the splashing voices of a pool
