By K. Iver
You’ve never seen a lilac in Mississippi. Backstage you wear lotion laced with its chemical imitation...
Explore Poems: Melancholy & Despair
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- By Georg TraklAt evening they bore the stranger into the death parlor; a scent of tar; the faint rustling of red sycamores...
- By J. V. CunninghamI am no shepherd of a child’s surmises. I have seen fear where the coiled serpent rises, Thirst where...
- By Ahmad Almallahthe wound is bleeding into white the wound is threading clouds across the eye, across its view and how...
- By Victoria ChangJan.4.2022 A call is just a call. I pick it up. Jan.6.2022 I lift blankets looking for my father. Jan...
- By Shanta LeeMama birthed me, Papa sold me in the land of weeping willows Traces of sin trail miles across skin, ...
- By Natalie ShaperoGod come on stop cutting me out of your photos God stop dragging the mouse around my shopworn body like...
- By T. S. EliotApeneck Sweeney spread his knees Letting his arms hang down to laugh, The zebra stripes along his jaw...
- By T. S. EliotWebster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin; And breastless creatures under...
- By Evie ShockleyAnd now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would gladly forget if I could. Asia Graves looks...
- By Crystal Simone SmithI am waiting to be discovered (having· come to rest on the floor, head against the stove, upended chair...
- By Pablo OtavaloIn midsentence. Like a pregnant sow in another mud- and mire-laden trench, your hay-stuffed midland ...
- By Kwoya Fagin MaplesMy brother still bites his nails to the quick, but lately he’s been allowing them to grow. So much hurt...
- By Rafael CampoOutside somewhere, beneath an atmosphere So pure and new each breath is musical And silent, mouth-watering...
- By Lindsay Stuart HillHe died with the needle lying beside him like a friend in the darkness of Boston’s North End. The others...
- By Ray McManusI’m dying. My wife is dying. Our kids are dying. Their pets are dying. The neighbors are dying. The ...
- By Cathy Linh CheCue soundtrack. The undead include: my grandmother, my older sister, my uncle, who was a priest, four...
- By Michaella Batteni. i am sitting in sunday school in a handsewn pink dress and white lace tights i am putting my hand...
- By Donald HallTo grow old is to lose everything. Aging, everybody knows it. Even when we are young, we glimpse it ...
- By Imru al-QaysHow many times have I set forth with a bent back and a waterskin slung on my shoulder? How many valleys...