Tag / poetry

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  • Wander Throughout – Shome Dasgupta

    Gritted minds of holy spectacle jaws: granted deep, in throats of wandering chests breathe hard upon a ground like thuds of hooves upon the body of earth, from a stray horse-- red…
  • Weighted – Micaela Walley

    Weighted blankets are supposed to remind people of the womb but when I wake up in darkness, unable to stretch my limbs—covered in my own body fluid, too—I feel the womb might…
  • i am writing my own national anthem – Kimberly Nguyen

    i have called myself every name/ a border/ then a bridge/ two halves then two wholes/ exhausted every language/ an orphan tongue looking for a mother/ a word that looks like a…
  • Arranged Marriage – Preeti Vangani

    I have graduated in happiness by rehearsing for happiness.   At six, I learned to fool my pet parrots by taking an empty fist to the food bowl. Laughed as they screeched…
  • We do not end even when our vessels let us go— – Nadia Gerassimenko

    there is a transference that happens. We take the shape of bursting stardusts and milky moons, the endless waves and foams of ocean’s echoes, the purple on the asphalt after the rain.…
  • Dear John Berryman – David Crews

    I am the little boy who cries wolf. I am the man who cannot stop the boy from speaking. From telling others he knows best, that there is a baby bird trapped…
  • Morning – Nicole Callihan

    The light from the kitchen is a square in the field. An empty truck in a gravel drive, idling in the grey. It’s always been my favorite time of day. I can…
  • Falling into Earth – Aiden Heung

    I have imagined him with this creased landscape woven into his eyes; no sky is immense, no winnowed heaps of hills difficult, no gullied ravines too deep. Maybe he thinks so too,…
  • How I Begin the New Decade – Brooke Lehmann

    I wake briefly from my slumber to scratch the walls of this chosen dark cave to remind myself of the stark days passing.   Inside, it’s the hum of the air filter,…
  • Cloud / land arc – Alicia Byrne Keane

    A memory surfaces lit by a marquee wall; your messages like bites of fruit oxidising.   The beginnings of hills, suddenly and hugely I feel the time difference like a fall through…