Because of their format, several poems that appear in the current issue are included only in pdf. To read them, click on their titles on the right side of this page.
Sorrow, keep calm.
Evening—you asked for it—has come.
Darkening streets (depending who you are)
bring peace, or fear.
The dawn of the age is an old tune just barely in d minor.
You can go there, listen, hear what Arnold Schoenberg heard
Boats are sad folks
as they rock
and they rock tied
Murmurous muezzin, hedge-
hiding, no reason to
silence for never I’d harm
you, not Rueheart, not
Slovenly blondes, mussed
in feathering snow,
in ice-burst of spring,
How could I calm the ache
that drifted through my sleep?
A plain ceramic jar,
rounded at the lip,
Like a monk hunched over gilded letters,
my brother studied flies hatching on the Pootatuck,
picked a red and gold Parmachene Belle
from a metal box, tied it to a tippet
“Well I drank it,” says the scientist
When they ask him what he has
Done with the contaminated
Water. “There is less in the lab’s
A test. In a morning
Blue suit the Census taker
Drops his credentials
And picks them up
The museum was closed, so no one saw
the statue of Adam
tumble to the floor, and break. No one saw
the plywood pedestal