• Three Prose Poems by Theodore Worozbyt

    As dark memories say to themselves, the only flower to grow now and then is nasturtiums, little elephant’s ears. My grandmother opened her eye and sang the bitter batter butter song. Under the case the pillow was striped in indigo. And then a kiss like a windflower came and had a final note written on... Read More

    Three Prose Poems by Marc Vincenz

    Unreclined at the peninsula’s end, a mile from the city where your feet become the night unveiling—too far to hear of the siege of cicadas where Sister’s coat lies perched against the dark... Read More

    Three Prose Poems by Lee Min-ha, translated from Korean by Jein Han

    m is for my name, h is for your name my name, blue-backed snare, sharp oxygen, gasping for air I went to lustrous june’s fleshmarket to sell the apricot-colored uvula caught in my throat... Read More

    Winter Cinemas by Emmalea Russo

    A cloud streams through dirt detergent haunted jewels as Marguerite Duras watches a fly die... Read More

    Five Poems by Adam Day

    Remembrances almost live,” all history at once,” itself alienated from cause effect.” Makes several centuries “simultaneously present,” while revealing a causal narrative in a sequence of construction... Read More

    Two Prose Poems by Christine Scanlon

    if I cut this way, you circle in two. it hurts, the way lines are drawn. with color of dissent. if you have forgotten, it’s as if you break apart from being. retreat to your hym(n) section. then we parry on... Read More

    Three Prose Poems by Yoo Heekyung, translated from Korean by Stine Su Yon An

    i am so very curious about the thing you said you’d planted and i wonder why you are so sick of such peonies, you who would have brushed off your hands loudly after planting them... Read More

    Three Prose Poems by Sheila E. Murphy

    Now I lay me dormant as a spot. The clock taps shoulder length and hairlines fracture plot. I think the story was a maze, and you, my inkblot, told the tale of me toute seule where I would whisper your soft name, the frame of it, the hemline brushing tile... Read More

    Three Texts by Gabriel Blackwell

    Fenollosa, whose invention was simultaneously Pound’s most intriguing and least faithful translation, writes that “no full sentence really completes a thought [because] motion leaks everywhere... Read More

    Three Poems by Zoe Tuck

    How do I write our way in without building a wall, a gate? Here I am looking for an answer from your words, forced instead by circumstances back into my inner resources... Read More