David Adès Invisibility Cloak In bed, I feel her body right there, the firmness of it imprinting shape into mattress, her breathing, the flapping wings of her lungs — so it takes years for me to understand that she shimmers like a hologram, a love I can pass my hands through, and what I think […]
Read MoreJanet Madden You are the well-worn shoes I slide into every morning, the familiar comfort that balances my widespread toes, the foundation of the steps that take me away from you. Janet Madden writes, hand quilts and raises chickens and vegetables in Santa Monica, CA.
Read MoreAsa Johnson Sleep Apnea Awoken, interrupted, the broken body struggles to know disparate moments, to forget each nightly time of death the heart with its cascading metronome beats into a fevered marathon, twitching coded messages against the ribs. Asa Johnson is a graduate English student living in Texas whose poems have appeared in Hothouse, Analecta, […]
Read MoreJames Hamby Lachesis Every winter I saw her through the snow, glinting in my eye like jagged ice, unreachable at the edge of perception. James Hamby won the blue ribbon in the sack race at his elementary school three years in a row.
Read MoreSarah Russell Colleague When he calls from the conference and says he met her, after months of email discussing their research, I see the first whiff of smoke rising out of the forest, one you have to be close to notice, and think you could put out yourself if the garden hose reached that far, […]
Read MoreGil Hoy Buffalo Bill’s Buffalo Bill’s alive who now rides a smooth, black and white energy-saving Tesla that accelerates onetwothreefourfivesix justlikethat Jesus I miss my watersmooth-silver stallion but what i want to know is how do you like your Pontiac now Mister Death. Gil Hoy writes poems in Boston while his daughter and son-in-law drive […]
Read MoreGil Hoy Man’s Best Friend If she had only gotten up to walk the barking dog on that early pitch-black morning, then I would have had time to check my tax return, would have caught my mistake, wouldn’t have been audited, wouldn’t have had to tell that little white lie, wouldn’t be sitting in this […]
Read MoreBill Yarrow Caller ID When the heart gets a call from a heart better answer it on the first ring. Astoundingly, Bill Yarrow writes in lines that almost always form sentences.
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