Poetry and Art by Joshua Ware

January 1, 2015

In the avocado night, lit green by the avocado light, we wait, suddenly, for the sun to break bright, binding us together in the avocado dawn. In the repetition of our words, of our sounds, of our songs, of our thoughts made from music from our mouths, we love what binds us together.

Three Poems by Jeff Alessandrelli

December 27, 2014

Using too many adjectives

is no different than leaving

the price tag

a designer sports jacket

you purchased second hand.

Two Poems by Glenn Shaheen

December 9, 2014

Let’s party. Like, I want to be a believer in the power

of dance, the point of the party. There are individuals

in every corner, bellies filled with animal something.

Three Poems By Philip Metres

December 6, 2014

the margin is not the margin

to the margin / the central drone

trails a sound like a lawnmower

mowing down the sky / you look up

Three Poems By Laura Bernstein

November 29, 2014

We follow directions: spread a shallow bed of seeds

in my belly button, place plastic wrap layers over

my stomach, and lay my body out in sunlight.

1979 by Hayan Charara

October 11, 2014

We were stopped

at a red light, I was in the passenger seat,

and a guy crossing the street looked

at the Buick, then at us

Gaza by Hayan Charara

October 11, 2014

Stay with me, my boy

says every night before falling

asleep. He makes it easy

Three Poems By Kwame Dawes

May 1, 2014

I heard something other than
the chattering of birds in the trees,
something like the hint of music

Kablooey is the Sound You'll Hear by Debra Marquart

December 1, 2013

then plaster falling and the billow of gypsum
after your sister blows a hole in the ceiling
of your brother’s bedroom with the shotgun
he left loaded and resting on his dresser.