Tag / poetry

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  • News from the Dead at Dozier School for Boys – Judith Roney

                After Henry Scott-Holland’s “Death is Nothing at All” Have you found us yet? Found us all?             We are singing, little bird-wing bones weeping for milk-toast, for apricot-colored me-free sky            …
  • Wind Chill – Cameron Morse

    Downstream from the Quad Cities Generating Station, a train of steam rolls over the surface of the Mississippi. A four below zero, the wind is chill as a razorblade on my tongue,…
  • Onesies – Cameron Morse

    I machine wash cold the onesies for my unborn son, wash and dry inside out the dinosaur onesie,   the I’m one in a chameleon onesie, the one with monsters, the one…
  • Backwater Rising – Michele Battiste

    Backwater rising, baby, come on. There’s panic in the landscape. What one glitch in hindsight reveals,   what one broadcast made us believe, come on. Gather   the fractures of your self…
  • Star Stung – Benjamin Niespodziany

    Starfling me, wring me a backlash pack, a rat far from the farflung star slums that stuff thick molasses in the weekend gym.   We can't emphasize enough how wrong the slongarm…
  • Brief Encounters with Old Trains – Brian Baumgart

    I offer you my spine, curved like the edge of a sea shell, so you can stretch the bones loose and listen to blood puddles curdling at our feet. I sing, scratchy,…
  • Snowed-in Soul – Matt Nagin

    You ever heard of a snowed-in soul? The buried stalagmite spirit? You ever heard of Mr. Snow Man melting in the forests of grim fire? Has it occurred to you how the…
  • East coast – Kylan Rice

    When I said no matter   how pale the lavender, or opal   the gulf; no matter how many hours a greyhound takes; how exquisite the distance, the overpass, the corporate beige…
  • The Lady from the Choir Says, Your Mother Was A Saint – Miriam O’Neal

    1. You see how I’ve had to imagine you— tried to make my vision fit? I’ve re-dreamed your dreams as my own, said   we had this kind of conversation, sat down…
  • Tornado Tongue – Lois Marie Harrod

    But how could we stop the rat a tat tattle in the brain, the hot-headed shatter of hard wood,   pileated spring drill, stiff skull and muscled neck, splintered walnut, shattered eaves,…