Deborah Bacharach Regret One cold spring when I lived in shit- strewn Paris and had to fight to buy a ham sandwich and my food was stolen and my books were stolen and the man I wanted had no time and a man on the street dropped his pants and leered, I did not walk […]
Read MoreDeborah Bacharach If you want to tan go, draw a line up the back of night’s naked calf. You can find Deborah Bacharach‘s poems in her book After I Stop Lying, in concis and Texas Review, or on DeborahBacharach.com.
Read MorePravat Kumar Padhy In her drenched hair, I sense imprint of the first rain. Pravat Kumar Padhy is a scientist and poet with several poems and Japanese short form of poetry featured in many notable journals and anthologies.
Read MoreJ.R. Solonche Botanical Garden If yellow is the color of joy, and If red is love’s color, then here is joy enough for a city of the miserable, and here is red enough for all the cups of the loveless. J.R. Solonche is author of Beautiful Day , Won’t Be Long , Heart’s Content , Invisible (nominated for […]
Read MoreKenneth Salzmann Genealogy In that case you might as well create ancestors of your own from the glistening shards of dreams from flickering glimpses of strangers on the D train as if your story were handed down from father to son then father to son and then to you and as if who and what […]
Read Moredeb y felio Above It All From the floor to ceiling window in my 43rd floor apartment of a 54 storied highrise I watch the intersecting circles of interstates and bypasses clogged with vehicles that once moved freely from here to there and realize tonight there is no choice for a road less traveled. deb […]
Read MoreAnuja Ghimire America Guns Grief Are children who’d have stopped children killing children again shot by children? Anuja Ghimire has a worldly life and a life in poetry.
Read MoreHowie Good Skull City The emptiness is real, the starting point, how it all feels, the mother of all things, a mule, the amoeba, an expanse of trees in the distance, what the shade is like under there, only a few colors, the only thing left, a piece of music so familiar I could play […]
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