Poetry by Ruth Freier There is a certain specificity inside of me Drifting in a haze Another question raised Another day of ways and whys A downward driving weight behind my eyes It’s too late for sanity Sinking into lethargy Inner balance shifting I can feel my essence lifting Caught in a whirlwind dissipating
Poetry by Ruth Freier
By Seth Cosimini The moon used to be attached to the Earth, some protoplanet hit us and took it away. We put a flag on the moon unfortunately it is much harder to take back. After Barbara Ros
By Seth Cosimini but you can buy the plastic ones for kids and shout “ROAR!” as you stuff Hot Wheels in their mouths. You can watch Jurassic Park and be scared at the images of dinosaurs that you can turn off from the couch. You can go to the Badlands and dig up their bones.
By Raïssa Huntley The following are translations by Raïssa Huntley from the chapbook Del Matadero by Nicaraguan poet Abelardo Baldizón, printed in Managua in 2000 by 400 Elefantes. In Memory of His Highness’ Son Today died the son of President John F. Kennedy. News reached the world at the precise moment that I decided
Life Lesson #9 Don’t let the jealousy Of a dress Consume Your soul and body. One day far from Now You’ll realize how young And naïve you truly were Back when jealousy Was the only thing On your Mind. Life Lesson #12 Impatient punctuality Nevermore responsible Early is on time On time is late
by Porsche Jones We have not grown or aged a day. We have not left or entered room, through door, or the long low windows Of naked glass, wrapped sometimes coyly in blankets from India, (Calcutta is troubleshooting your wireless, barefoot and without kidneys–) The wind groans a little in houses
by Jordan Mills Pleasant Joy Goswami was born on November 10th, 1954 in Kolkata, India. He has published over fifteen volumes of poetry in Bengali, and is considered one of the most important figures in contemporary Bengali literature. He currently works as an editor and critic for Protidin, a Kolkata based newspaper. His work is
By Kimberly Brown Only the mirror holds my body, this assemblage of bones. I have wanted to disappear for months have you measured my lightness? I tick off markers of morning. The same sounds come, snow crunch, chatter, now birds. The alley swoons for addictions: smoke curls to my window in hands or wings.
By Jeff Pelzek In her memory, the finer details of Whalay Beach would exaggerate themselves; its perfect clarity, all the way to the weedless shallows, seemed more pure in the annals of her subjective recollection. But that one dry summer afternoon that she spent at the lake never strayed far from a perfectly vivid recounting,
By Melissa Wright How did you get me to lightness? Seemed simple enough puffed – not too much Kept a straight face though, right? If I could express! How much easier things are now. (intervals will bring me back) Is that you I see now? no . . . Dizzy confidences in a share for