Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco Making It Even If I can swim across the pool same as throwing back a shot, and still feel nothing, why did you ask if the only place I cry is underwater? Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco lives in California and writes poems because she can’t figure out how to eat the sky.
Read MoreGail White The Only Important Question Is there life after death, and if so does it mean there is a god, and if not, does anything matter except finding love on a cruise ship? Gail White lives in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, where everything she writes is monitored by her black cat, Pushkin.
Read MoreLarry D. Thomas Blue Jay What is his song but a brand-new, awkwardly angled stick of blue chalk dragged across the chalkboard of daybreak? Larry D. Thomas reads and writes poems to enjoy the scenery of Yosemite from his balcony in the Chihuahuan Desert of far West Texas. www.larrydthomas.com
Read MoreAngie Werren Is this where my story begins again – the sun, the empty cups? Angie Werren lives and writes in a tiny house in Ohio.
Read MoreCatherine B. Krause The Season In a summer when the sun is so hotthat your old car’s air conditioneris useless for the first several minutes that it’s onso you have to roll down the windows,would you like to have sex in the swimming pool? Catherine B. Krause is Bruce Wayne by day and Catwoman by […]
Read MoreFlower Conroy Nonbeliever Once I dreamt the heavens cleaved apart & bodies (like larks or leaves) stumbled skyward into blinding ruins. Now I Find Myself at this roadside diner, dining on a seafood salad sandwich & drinking tumbleweed coffee on a Thursday morning before sunrise. Flower Conroy, appearing here for the second time, is the […]
Read MoreBarry Marks Muse My mother taught me to swim by moving backward in the pool as I flailed, frantic to reach her, her voice saying I’m right here, just swim to me. Barry Marks is a Birmingham, Alabama attorney and poet whose book, Possible Crocodiles, was winner of the Alabama State Poetry Society’s 2010 Book of […]
Read MoreElizabeth McMunn-Tetangco Last Summer On the Ferris wheel, last summer, I gripped my son’s blue shirt as we spun sickly in the vacant air, then down, again, to where the hot earth tilted. Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco lives in California and writes poems because she can’t figure out how to eat the sky.
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