Monthly Archives: April 2016
Jeff Skinner
Advice to an Old Poet Whatever you do don’t make a fuss. Avoid metaphors they’re not for us. Your voice should be casual, ambiguity’s fine. Today’s poet refrains from end rhyme unless in performance or poetry slam spreading a rap … Continue reading
Glen Calleja
Punctuation There’s someone in the house, I think. I’m being robbed. No, I’m not. It wasn’t me who shook myself awake. I’m puking the future you’ve already seen into existence. This is how I make night last longer. I sleepwalk … Continue reading
Carter Vance
Cherry Red I have felt the sun in shades, crossing creep from lawns shorn in humming of summer passes, in pitter-patter of misplaced hair strands, perfectly-figured dress cuts. Bathing in the milk-sewn pools of August starlight, lipstick glint bright as … Continue reading
John Bolland
My Father’s Hands Upon his death I caught my father’s hands and sealed them in two boxes. One contains the rattle of his tools: the stilsons, molegrips, worms and tamps, a hammer and a trowel. His rusted trowel evokes for … Continue reading
James Croal Jackson
TWO-YEAR LOVESONG and the tide comes and goes like my foot in and out of the water lowering the gate to oblivion i hold your hand in highest regard in the pantheon we were regal all the modern day … Continue reading
Sanjeev Sethi
WISHES FOR A CHILD I NEVER HAD I would want you not to be weak to the williwaw, not to be vulnerable to whims of another. To be girded with the resource to negotiate with niceties of the nether. May … Continue reading
Christine Ford
Stardust So, if we are bits of dust, flecked from explosions in a sky fitted with starlight and supernovas, is waking up a call to leave what we know, to a Black Hole that is birth, not death, as we … Continue reading
Kim Peter Kovac
WHAT REMAINS I wonder what you wear for the fire, for the immolation, the cremation – a suit or dress? A shroud? Nothing? What does it mean if your burial costume is embalmed versus being burned up with you? Do … Continue reading
Petra Vergunst: Three poems
Bride’s Prayer Do not expect saplings beneath the mother oak by saying your bedtime prayers for the tree may remain barren. Go to the well tonight, fill your empty pail and wash yourself. Let cool water draw tracery on your … Continue reading
The Open Mouse 