Some cold nights the fog tinkles against the wind- / ows and shushes along the roof like a paper bag.
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Queer Femme Asks A Man To Forgive Their Sin by Mateo Perez Lara
I wait for an arrow quiver / strike to kill my aches / & when I look in the mirror / I want to throw knives
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Two Poems by Jude Achilles Misick
I spent my childhood practicing girlhood, / wearing dresses that flowed around my ankles, / and stuffing myself full of honey
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Two Poems by Jeannine Gailey
I walk outside and above us an open mouth / to the universe – light streaming towards us, / an invitation.
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Oysters Rockefeller by Brad Kavo
News comes back your cancer has spread, / so we go out to celebrate / you not being dead / yet.
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A Normal Interview with William Archila by Angelina Leaños
This is the great thing about immersing myself in the world I am creating in my work. The tropes, concepts, the culture and history, the places and characters, they all come together.
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Transplant by Yance Wyatt
our feet seized by quicksand / as the ocean breathes in and out / in and out / like one great pneumonic lung
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LEAVE ME AT THE BREAK by Benjamin Faro
Altogether we were / uncountable, and another / of us we abandoned / at the shore.
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Peach Ode by Matt Poindexter
Sweet teenage goths, come back / from evening’s municipal cemeteries / and haunt the living for a minute.
Come In Go Ahead Say Again by Christopher Citro
Skies have moods. We gave these / to them. Named the rivers. Imagine that.
Two Poems by Court Castaños
An old man will watch us, openly / stare, two boys in a Nevada diner / leaning towards each other, a touch / too close.
Reductionism by Liz Harms
Any moment the doctor / will knock—the wait suspenseful, caught / breath before a jump scare.
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Elegy for Aunt Kate by Nora Gupta
"The fear of Death was spoon-fed to me— / the drear of black velvet drapes // over glossy wood coffins, heartbeats swallowed / but never digested."
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Monologue for a Wild Sprouted Onion by Rita Mookerjee
"the curse of my child who you will/ bury shallow in the ground without/ a second thought"
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A Normal Interview with Éric Morales-Franceschini by Victoria Monsivaiz
My poetry is indeed heavily indebted to my studies in history, psychoanalysis, political economy, and critical social theory; but I find that, at times, only via poetry can I adequately express the gravity and intricacy of not just a given fact, but what I should (like to) do in light of that fact.
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Laurels by Tara A. Elliott
"...arms now/ berry-covered branch/ —how awfully/ they must ache."
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A Normal Interview with Béatrice Szymkowiak by sami h. tripp
"I think art holds the power to shift and multiply perspectives, which the world desperately needs right now. Single-mindedness is dangerous. What I love about poetry in particular, is its capacity of subversion, of dissent, against ideas but also against language itself, as language and ideas are intertwined."
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The Sick Diet by Aimee Nezhukumatathil
because you left a good-bye note written on paper made of mummies.
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The Last Kiss by Lawdenmarc Decamora
I stay alive though, sensing velocity
as an ambulance would in a dream—
brisk, accidental. Remember the first time
your little bones cried for milk?
Two Poems by Sher Ting Chim
Why is it
when we die,
We always remember most
the song from our childhood?