by Joshua Zeitler
Puberty
and cars and trucks
obviously and trains
from time to time
he heard coming
but never saw
loving the rush
of air how he could Continue reading
by Joshua Zeitler
Puberty
and cars and trucks
obviously and trains
from time to time
he heard coming
but never saw
loving the rush
of air how he could Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Claire Scott
Look:
the three headed dog stands guard
snarling and snapping
serpent tail flashing
swollen tongues slobbering
toxic slime Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Anna Egeland
I
After Jeff Wall
Bullet-proof vests hunched over cardboard boxes.
Black latex fingers sifting through papers,
a permanent marker poised, ready to label
Filed under Poetry
by Eric Stinton
I watch the palm trees bend in the trade winds, as if they were riding in convertibles along the cliffs of the Kalanianaʻole Highway, their fronds like hair blowing back in the breeze. I yearn for their stillness, to let the world move around me, through me. I wish I belonged to the wind the way I want it to belong to me. But it comes and goes, belonging to nothing, while I remain. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Christopher Stolle
(for Dad [died March 20, 2010], Grandpa Mathews [died March 28, 1996], and Grandpa Stolle [died March 22, 2012])
Grief is a wound
you keep bandaged,
the damage never healing,
never becoming an afterthought,
always a lingering presence,
a fierceness unyielding,
like a tyrant bellowing
for more destruction,
never getting enough. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry