TagPoetry

Natural History poem by Katie Selbee Good question. The mountains me and you we fit so well together like the rock faces of the Rockies I pointed out to you the other day out the car window that maybe you were looking at or maybe ha ha knowing you you were thinking of the Cold

It’s funny what you don’t recall poem by Stephanie Airth when a friend points a knife that bites at you both and seems made of light when it shines in the (dark bright burn orange soft white streetlamp, she steps in front of (him the knife his face past describing her heart is six shriveled

  To Remember a Poem poem by Billy Kwan A minute to half-past twelve. The moon’s sphere of light hides behind veils of clouds. You tilt your head back. Thoughts descend like mist that hovers around the ankles. The trickiest part is always some other thing than a thought; so you begin to forget. The

Crocodylia poem by Jason Fernando He sat heavily on the cushioned surface, eyes jittering out the window. Inside, a warm room, its low-lit scenery accented by the blue-cold glare emanating from beyond café windows, those moderating view-panes and embassies to the external. Outside, cool air shifted imperceptibly in convective motions, as visibly all was still

Presage poem by Mo Lawrence I woke and wondered how to go about pronouncing presage. In this, I pronounced the wondering, but could not pronounce the presage. In this, presage was palimpsest: a Thing made Things in chord. Can the poem presage if I cannot not muck the meter? Yes: It can presage a decline.

I Pick You Up at the Airport poem by Sara Dueck You pop out at holidays, my birthday, In August stepping down to the tarmac.  My air conditioning broke last month and Beads of wax run down Your face.  Thirsty Trees line up.  You look out the back windows. I told you You could have

Archetype-fetting childhood poem by Harry Chiu The songful-done wording was written at tower I flashpanned along the bluecooling brook. Sunflighting words wrung wistfully wide And all heady lightphrase hazeldown took.   Spundance flew beyond bournebearing hamlet Birdsong like writwalk cantering home. I never flingfocused at washingdin shoreline Nor floatdraft away fromto springberry loam.   Likedream

The Puddle poem by Sonja Cvoric

Love across a Long Table poem by Katie Selbee after Christopher Evans’ “Like a Sauna Choked with Incense” In my unmade mind my fingers perpetually pinch your jaw as if feeling for canine teeth. I am inspecting: considering you first from that angle and then this. With your unvarnished splintered skin you look like Shackleton,

Like a Sauna Choked with Incense poem by Christopher Evans after Michael Ondaatje’s “Sweet Like a Crow” Your hair is like molasses spilled down the front of a new white stove, like the synchronized thrum of forty-two wren’s wings, like a sepia photograph of turtlenecked children Like a drink thrown in serious weather, a mahogany

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Jupiter poem by Karen Hugdahl Meyer A boy dreams of outer space makes a rocket ship from a cardboard box. He is a small planet orbiting his sister— the sun at the centre of his universe. He asks how to spell Jupiter. She sounds the “J” j-j-jutting out her jaw draws a hook in the

Tomato poem by Maia Nichols into some swamp land dream scape I trudged with a small wooden paddle and some grape juice for the morning, not looking back or harnessing any of the uncertainty that was collecting dust in my den back home, naïve yet with a slightly sour aftertaste, like the grapes growing on

Herd poem by Kate Radford I have taken shelter from my kind among slow trees in the glen. Shaded from white cloud-light by waxy leaves – some spined, some smooth – layered in shades of green whittling the weak light to bright points of white. Underneath here is wind and the second-hand rain (a morning’s

forced feels poem by Emma Wilson peelings on the table must be brushed off with a quick hand and collected by the other. roughness of orange remnants must be scrubbed with equal roughness. calluses scrape the surface, fingernails knead dirt in the kitchen and the garden. * other fingers need my skin to trace the