By Shireen Madon
It’s as though the birds all know each other, and how naively
they seem to believe the world will go…
they seem to believe the world will go…
Explore Poems: Ekphrasis
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- By Rochelle Hurt[all my exes agree i’m too sensitive. inside i’m keeping track of slights on one long receipt, a diaristic…
- By Rochelle Hurt[as jumping from a plane. easier—a bridge. as tripping on a shoelace. as blinking your eyes. as breathing…
- By Rochelle Hurt[if you marry your confession, you can live alone inside it. no priest behind the window. no wife or…
- By Shara McCallumWhy yu always ask stupid question, ee?
The man call mango head because him head
shape like mango. What… - By Ama CodjoeWhat if, Betye, instead of a rifle or hand
grenade—I mean, what if after
the loaded gun that takes two… - By Mag GabbertThe effect—for those three hundred years, while the cupid remained hidden—was a kind of silence.
Like… - By Krista FranklinIndigo pool, color of the wings
of the biggest specimen captured
in glass in my second room, that one… - By Samiya Bashir— as i was saying
your
(idea of) death ain’t mine(s)
i(’ll) sprout any how
(flourish!)
your rot flesh… - By Ruth Ellen KocherWe end easy. Your hand always your hand,
not mine. Your hand before and behind me,
vertigo cinching… - By Krista FranklinEveryday some brown
woman pools into inky blue,
a madness that crawls up
from the floor of her and flows… - By Krista FranklinThe handwriting is on the wall
a white smear across the face of the sky
a smear of white
a white chalk… - By Abdulkareem AbdulkareemAll things begin from the spindle,
we say—life spun from graces.
I grew like rain from rumbles of my… - By S.J. Fowler & Rebecca KamenSIR, the 28 spheres of Kamen’s harmony
Susceptible, inferred, immense, actual - the electron microscopy… - By Pamilerin JacobNeither milkweed
nor rose-apple
in Schenck’s Anguish,
only a murder
of crows sprouting
at the perimeter… - By Mary Jo BangThat the walls have no texture suggests that we,
the angels and I, are perfect. And we are,
the way… - By Mary Jo BangYou once sat on straw mats but clearly
it wasn’t enough.
It must not have been
since you lifted the… - By Mary Jo BangI was living a life that was more
or less filled with misfiring synapses
inside a braincase. They said… - By Anne SextonThe town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot… - By Elena Karina ByrneBut all dark notes are dismantled
there from the middle ear
downward. Voyaged mind, cauldron skin.…