Recognizable After dinner, a fugitive guest, vibrating with the visceral, sat on the couch between us. The future was recognizable. That cherubim face with blistered hands taking off those combat boots, as a warm southern drawl dripped like honey off every word wearing a yellow jacket spoken to make us feel better. The absence … Continue reading Recognizable by Daniel Moore
I Read the News Today, Oh Boy there in the front yard dew is glistening on the freshly cut grass kids playing down the street laughing for no reason at all Kevin Coons' fiction and poetry has been featured previously in Grey Sparrow, Forge Magazine, Black-Listed Poetry Review, and several other online zines.
LAS VIDAS I’ve known soledad in the middle of noise, days in which a heartbeat was a tease but my Latinoamérica gets at the back of my throat. I can’t get the lives out: the old man who went to the mountain, brought a rope to hang himself, it wasn’t locura, it was a man … Continue reading Two Poems by Claudia Rojas
BLACK-AND-WHITE PHOTOS Black-and-white photographs— leaves of an invisible tree, shed on the road, you never walk again, until you reach the point— nowhere else to go. Faint smiles, funny bonnet, neatly trimmed mustache, tight epauletted uniform, and my dad in girls’ dress on the unknowable friends’ lap. Postcards from the other side of the mirror, … Continue reading BLACK-AND-WHITE PHOTOS by Andrey Gritsman
CHAIR ON CHAIR everything that is not this chair chewing the chair from all sides you stay seated working through theorems and smiling at your empirical uniqueness every once in a while, oblivious of the chair's cosmic ordeal now the chair has been eaten away into invisibility and a verb yet you … Continue reading CHAIR ON CHAIR by Faiz Ahmad
The Mice We say, “quiet as a mouse,” but can it be as loud? Low squeaks from the kitchen eat at me. I walked in on one fidgeting stovetop, between the fingers of the burner grate, scraping at the food caked to the enamel. I froze. It dove behind the control panel flickering its hairless … Continue reading Mice by Luba Ostashevsky
Thresholds Reluctantly, hushed, glooming into view, like the strained and dappled light of a glade from the swashing-switching of the birches in which, further in the murk, the wolf could be forelimbed, pulsing like the heart at the twigging ribs as the scrunch of the gravel imprinted the scrim of catkins like burnt-up snakes, unease … Continue reading Thresholds by Iain Twiddy
At Fall’s End Sky burns in pale flames. Clouds fray tattered linen threads. I look up for faces, unbound by fear, see no one, gods and monsters now pixelated fragments in digitized streams. I pray into wind to catch my breath. on a hilltop, not alone, just small, no more than a blot that blends … Continue reading At Fall’s End by Richard Dinges Jr.
SOMETIMES A JOY APPEARS White mountain dance retreat: after the others have gone, after long grief, by the stone fireplace all night turning and turning in the lodge, disorienting myself. Reliable partner, the space slowly transforms, reveals its hidden fault lines, opens onto other worlds. In reverie I slip into interiors, half dream: a dusky … Continue reading SOMETIMES A JOY APPEARS by Richard Brostoff
Hallucination is everywhere Hallucination is everywhere The brain is a Nosferatu shut in a coffin The New Yorker spills theories into your morning expulsions Like a rabid giraffe Beautiful yet dangerous In unexpected ways A system undermining a system An unexpected momentary illumination Callous as a truck hauling debris Stabbing at necessity and routine In … Continue reading Hallucination Is Everywhere by Josef Krebs