Three Poems from The Ink’s Path by Bernard Noël, trans. from French by Eléna Rivera
clearly it is necessary to leave behind the dark mouth / do we ever know what the other side of our face looks like / nothing murmurs inside us the why of reality and / the no longer are just as formidable as the not yet... Read More
Three Poems by Aaron Lopatin
At night, your eyes: / Could I do more the hands? / To feel the wreckage, truly. / To see the lessing day. The world must be asleep to these: / dreams; happenings; slippings of the seams. / I imagine a paradise without you. / I imagine a paradise you’ve left. / And light;... Read More
Two Prose Poems by Dale Going
If you take a brown feather, if you line it just a tiny bit with black, if you look underneath the feather, if you look at me closely in the light, the chased, encasing air, the leaf from which the subject seems to grow, flowering in catkins, the fruit a small samara no man would... Read More
Fragments from Not Now Now by Sandra Doller
They take it a little far. I haven’t even considered you yet. I applied. You think I’m talking about it when I’m talking all around it. There in your little snow hut in the sun. There there in it. There was an audio file once of the audiophile in the wind. You couldn’t understand... Read More
Two Landscapes by David Micah Greenberg
Unlimited the power of the unbearable self, the owl and bat taken to body. To aspire to a blamelessness and an unworthiness, to aspire to thorns. To find poetry in the Bible, the piety and piercing of reading and writing. To imitate the masters more firmly than the masters... Read More
gender sonnets by Ethan Fortuna
° but there are only a few hours we can relish ° chemical transmit song yeast / boots ° whatever enthuses cowering frettilations ° synthesis prescience ‘you’ ° porous / slide ° laid malleable stillness ° readiness ensorcell vigil ° ... Read More
Five Poems by Valentine Penrose, trans. from French by Mia X. Pérez
If it is a stone of sorrow, there I am seated / There, where ribbons fall sideways on the plain / White veils. This is nothing. / Where the wild-eyed goddess plunges the child of another into fire. / The tree refuses to orient itself. The emerald / Keeps its fist clenched... Read More
Six Poems from Flow state by Ryan Skrabalak
Write a music. Write a music more of with more no world, with things arranged. Things rearranged in no. World with no question (past, as night) in the mode of your fog. So that the fog was suited for your music and you made it with. Not owned. That’s your sense of this world... Read More
Four Prose Poems by Benjamin Paloff
I can only wonder at the decisions the ever-elsewhere hummingbird is weighing mid-air, but its suspension in all-at-onceness makes perfect sense in this “rarely” so rare as to mingle with never-forever. Taking the corner wide to skirt the black ice, there’s no need to keep looking... Read More
Four Prose Poems by Ken Taylor
if he talks his voice will not be the thing said, but the way of not saying it. what it aims to spurn. short on collar points. disciple of celestial steering. he keeps his mouth shut. the image will have to carry. not to be seen as holdup to action. he’s lost in thought in... Read More