Saint-Ouen | Stalingrad by Marie Silkeberg, trans. from Swedish by Kelsi Vanada
Rashomon. The Demon’s Gate you say. / I understood that it had opened. / Only a few more seconds. And it would be opened wide. / Time would stratify. / It snowed. The first snow fell... Read More
Two Prose Poems by Michael Trocchia
He left the shovel out back, leaning against the elm; he left his radio on, tuned to a static sense of time, a pair of wet boots at the pedals of the piano, and his wool cloak, stained with wild game, draped carefully across the keys, as if to warm the heart of a winter... Read More
Two Poems by Alison Prine
On the shore your face strained / by laughter is washed in sun. / The recognition in our gaze / is cumulative. / Every morning I wake / to watch dawn unfold over the harbor. / At night I crave to go back into / the conversation our bodies have in sleep... Read More
Three Poems by Gail Hanlon
After drones became the size of hummingbirds (and even the size of a grain of dust, it was rumored), we started to reevaluate the whole idea of shame. It was a sort of Garden of Eden scenario. But we could no longer cover ourselves. No longer seek cover... Read More
Excerpts from When the Ground Would Break by Emmalea Russo
We hold hands but I know this shouldn’t be the way our bodies interact. I refer to him using terms of endearment—baby, babe, hun, sweetie. The two of us are confused about this. But our hands keep clutching. Life will be a series of sites and non-sites, I think. It will go on and on... Read More
Five Poems by Ted Dodson
I would look away / Into the room’s silent reception / But as my character recedes I tire of looking at all. / The world has ended. Your resurrection eyes / Come across this second to last line—you / Can be assured I have read this already...
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Five Poems by Lindsay Remee Ahl
what seemed solid, the brick building we lived in, / the street corner I waited on to hold my child’s hand— / vanished in a breath / night all around, rain falling, I hear a crack— / a tree plummets to the road right before me / but I’m still standing as though / all... Read More
One Poem by Engram Wilkinson
Procedures exhausted / before hands emulsify / that last grief into effective / managerial utterances. / Constant monitoring, / lines of electrodes / extending into each / lengthening present / itching every universe / with the newest ideation... Read More
Two Poems by Vi Khi Nao
The eloquent lungs of us twins are piled / upon one another. Mother, your / concealed nipples are the tents that the / feet of our existence step on. / I hope our breathing doesn’t temporarily / upset your evening inside the tumescent / hide. This oblivion. This sublime maternal / gesture. Coming from you... Read More
Excerpts from My Heart Laid Bare by Charles Baudelaire, trans. from French by Rainer J. Hanshe
Love can be derived from a generous feeling: the taste for prostitution; but it is soon corrupted by the taste for property. Love wants to abandon itself, to confound itself with its victim, as the conqueror with the vanquished, & yet preserve the privileges of the conqueror...
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