Poetry
Poem of the Week
It was a Hmong villager who roped you with dogs on the chase.
Poem of the Week
My children, children, remember to let me go, delete my number.
Poem of the Week
If you are going to be my teacher, you will have to become a tiger.
Poetry
I’m trying to manage my dumb-dumb time machine brain and be here.
Photography & Art
“If the world is becoming a void, the artist must fill it with his soul.”
Poetry
When I saw my father for the last time, we both did the same thing.
Poem of the Week
a clock struck again & again by a granite fist; us masked & rocking
Poem of the Week
It was comforting to see her suffer the way we suffer, hollowed out.
Poem of the Week
The ego with which we began filters away as love accumulates below.
Poem of the Week
we are saying thank you in doorways and in the backs of cars
Poem of the Week
The snow on the windshield a tunnel of wings my friend is driving through.
Poetry
That there are five sturdy red Gerber daisies in a jar on the table.
Poem of the Week
I was once very brave. Once I was very brave. I was very brave once.
Poem of the Week
Centrifugal force circled the beasts until they swirled airborne.
iPoems
Three lives I flicked alight with a few match scrapes. I cupped them.
Poem of the Week
A woman pushing a walker understands—gravel can be pain.
Poetry
I didn't yet understand how loving something means to lose it.
Poetry
What my father and I destroyed, I take back—kneeling, among the shells.
Poem of the Week
Everyone is talking about the end of the world. Why now? Why today?
iPoems
Afterward, it was nature that was blind, and she who was wild.
Poem of the Week
A dwarf is now crying, he sounds swollen but golden with malediction.
Poem of the Week
Some say there’s a skeleton out here, a symbol of cleanliness.
Poetry
I could page the women’s voices in their velvet bags bound with string.
Poem of the Week
I have seen your ocean. I have heard your waves beside my bed.
Poetry Contest Winners
He grew a forest of candles and cried when it succumbed to wildfire.
Poetry
Raw, glistening—god’s design. Her newborn flesh-on-the-bone.
Poem of the Week
It comes as no surprise that everything is flying toward one point.
