By Meredith Stricker
I was thinking of some of the messages Rilke will never receive: — dentist called abt your appt tomorrow…
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- By Lydia Harris1
Sunday vellum tongues with words of prayer
Monday messages from the unknown
Tuesday how to… - By R. L. SwihartThe young man says, “Alan can
do anything he wants”
“Not fly,” I say
The young man returns
a puzzled look… - By Matthew RohrerReading a kind of laborious
poem about rural things
and a horse is shot
for breaking its leg.
I still… - By Tomás Q. MorínIn this life, there are stars
and there are stunt doubles.
Before I became one of those fathers
obsessed… - By Alison C. RollinsI am
a product
of my time.
Time is a body
that resembles
a sound without a scale.
Forever foreclosed… - By Cedric Tillmanyou know I ain’t mess w/you ’cause of yo’ friends
wouldn’t have you caught slummin’
know you hood 'cause… - By Kimiko Hahni.I am in the middle of “The Fourteen Poems" by Sun Bu-er (“Clear and Calm Free Human”), Taoist and…
- By Kevin YoungThe heart, it hoards—
how I know this—
The small, strangled
shining room Keats lost
his life in—and… - By Omar SakrA lover undresses, with permission.
Picture the body becoming real.
I picture becoming real intimate… - By Omar SakrI lift him out, whole and perfect.
Said told me he would be here, chained by Dante
To the eighth circle… - By Omar SakrI slip into my insolence, sleek as an eel.
I have walked so many ways around God I can tell you
Holiness… - By Haki R. MadhubutiFrequently during my mornings of pain & reflection
when I can’t write
or articulate my thoughts
or locate… - By Jamila Woodsi caught my breath & called that life
i cannot be comprehended
it is better to write
spit out words… - By T. S. EliotI. The Burial of the Dead
April is the cruellest monthApril is the cruellest month The Waste Land… - By Barbara Claire FreemanDear Necessity, the magnitude
and difficulty of the trust to which the voice
of my country has called… - By T. S. EliotWebster was much possessed by death
And saw the skull beneath the skin;
And breastless creatures under… - By Joshua EdwardsI read the same book over and
over, as much to have a familiar
thing to hold as to forget how
far I … - By L.A. JohnsonThe book from the archive
whispers with handwriting. A gold pen shines
the name of every man,
his every… - By Nikki GrimesI am a door of metaphor
waiting to be opened.
You’ll find no lock, no key.
All are free to enter, at…