Poetry

His Shirt

John Skoyles

The striped shirt drying
on the patio chair—
you can say he wore
that shirt,

self-driving

Laura Marris

when a man has selected himself to live longest of all

there will still be a fleet of Cadillacs to come for him in the night
self-driving from their garage

Living Room

Arthur Vogelsang

It is difficult reading today
Or doing my volunteer work at the hospital or reading.
Do you have anything unbelievable that you have read twice?

Cold Heaven

Elisabeth Murawski

Pink Jackie’s back in the car.
The shot, the slump, the gore.

Watch

Elisabeth Murawski

The sky’s a murky green. You stop the car
in heavy rain to take my hand and pray.
Is this a truce? An end to civil war?

On Turning Ninety

Edmund Keeley

It can be laughable
to stand in a room
and not know why
you came in there,

Mansplaining Oracle

Caki Wilkinson

Hey you, untrue god, fiscal man,
futile man, sour young cad; hey,
yahoo, seducer, family gun nut,

To the Embalmers

G. C. Waldrep

i.m. Mahmoud Darwish

I went into the desert for the velvet flesh of two white fish.
And when the heat of the desert was withdrawn from me

The Completion of Shadows

G. C. Waldrep

Oh friends I am a prison to all that lies within me.
It burns the way phosphorus burns.  It bears the raven’s flag
into the ragged country called by its natives Los Arpas.
 

Darklight

Rosanna Warren

The moon dragged her string-net bag of shadows through the boughs

The Point

Rosanna Warren

My long shadow paces and the skreak of gulls
hauls evening down and furls it along the edge of the lake.

First Crocuses

Donald Platt

They are the colors/of my dead father’s Lenten chasuble,

Margaritas

Knute Skinner

Margaritas tonight,
and I think of our friend Greg.

Julia Hungry

Hannah Louise Poston

She reconstructs her ruptured orange peel
while telling me about the fancy meal

Peony

Hannah Louise Poston

It’s come unlatched, the sloppy silk fist
unhinging like a jaw as if
to swallow something bigger than itself—

Each Morning

Andy Eaton

During a time of great need
we came easily
under the influence of light–

Avoiding News Along the Coast

Andy Eaton

Along the coast of perpetual breezes
I lay myself down. Half-light slowly
all the way, like the lid of the earth twisted off.
Full contentment may be possible

Bottom

Martha Zweig

You’ll be among the first
to know. You will. You’ll see:
waddling like an emperor’s obesity
ahead of you, sunrise, the future.

Hearse

Martha Zweig

Oops, hit the skid rind, cruel world
slipped a corkscrewy peel
of it’s-about-time.

Hardcore Innocence in Hangzhou, Winter 2015

Julian Gewirtz

We’ve been reading dirty
books, the kind with scurf
in their spines, cracking
their backs over my bed

FL 50’s

Rick McKenzie

This is where a hotel used to be.
Neon made the gin a sea-breeze blue,
Just as if Korea never happened.

Poor Relatives

Robert Morgan

The cloudburst leaves a brown meringue,
a kind of foamy candy on
the pool below the culvert where
the runoff plunged headlong to whip

Moroni’s Tailor

Phillis Levin

On a black cloth, a line of chalk
Marks the course my scissors must follow.

Shakespeare’s Head

Joseph Harrison

And cursed be sexton, parish clerk,
Or any man whose dirty work
Disturbs my poor dust where it lies.
I’ll see you, though through other eyes.

Two Views of Home

Catherine Stearns

An oval mirror that could fit in a child’s hand
from a pocketbook of her mother’s
for the pond beyond the door

Limitless Again

Aaron Fagan

Deplete the ascent, carving up your arms,
Returning flirty glances with the windows.
A film will attend this so don’t bother,

Between

Shane McCrae

I stood on the bridge in the sky on the bridge between
Two buildings     at the second floor but in
Between the buildings so in neither one

My Sweet Accompanist

Li-Young Lee

We were alive together once.
I thought it was that way from the beginning
of time. And I sang
my songs for him, and he rocked,
squeezing and pulling the accordion in his lap,
while his eyes glistened, shining.

Physics of the Breeze

David Baker

A slight wrinkle

A Portrait of My Father in Seven Maps

David Baker

Here I heard them. Here the big rocks.