Toward Bakersfield Toward Bakersfield
I Because the road comes without calling it, head low like it doesn’t want trouble but really does, and the bright cars, with faces like their owners, want to witness that trouble,…
Jan 18, 2022 / Poems / Brendan Constantine
Natalie Eilbert, by User 4357 Natalie Eilbert, by User 4357
There’s there there. A sweet empty vacuum bag smells of industry, its provenance. I try a xylophone note, a sound like burnt yellow. Approximations don’t mimic; they stand i…
Jan 13, 2022 / Poems / Natalie Eilbert
Letter to June Jordan in September Letter to June Jordan in September
I cannot pass the anniversary of that first news event of childhood without returning to your poem. How from my house I watched. And watching, watched my grief-stricken pare…
Jan 11, 2022 / Poems / Lena Khalaf Tuffaha
Stay Stay
after Dr. Elizabeth Sawin If only someone had told you your true extent how you connect to mountain glaciers and tropical orchids. How this is your time for young children, excessi…
Jan 6, 2022 / Poems / Elizabeth Metzger
Another Name for America Is Time Another Name for America Is Time
after Wanda Coleman JuneWe die. JuneSoon we die in March, April, May JuneMother may I? Yes you may. JuneMother, your back is turned. Ah, there’s your face. JuneWe march. JuneJanua…
Dec 28, 2021 / Books & the Arts / Ama Codjoe
Forever Homeless Forever Homeless
Before my long travel, I pack my suitcases, stuff them with some sand from our land, some scent from my mother’s kitchen and sounds of birds in the morning. And in my pockets, I pu…
Dec 28, 2021 / Books & the Arts / Mosab Abu Toha
Fly, Pelican, Fly Fly, Pelican, Fly
What’s this all about? Let’s do a list. Die is last. Dawn is first. Underneath it all, the sea tries to say the sea is all there really is. Fly, pelican, fly. It’s not enough to lo…
Nov 30, 2021 / Books & the Arts / Jim Moore
In Resemblance of the Living In Resemblance of the Living
Alone I spirit myself away looking at the many flowers born on the balcony, certainly not thanks to me, the gardener was the wind. They skin me with precision, their beauty sinks i…
Nov 16, 2021 / Books & the Arts / Chandra Livia Candiani
You Couldn’t Lose Me You Couldn’t Lose Me
It was like waking up in California— the awkward blossoms, the sky an aggressive blue. I remember the smell from your armpits, the greenhouse windows covered in white paint, where…
Nov 16, 2021 / Books & the Arts / Richie Hofmann