I am excited to present a mixture of poems from some highly regarded poets. Though I usually don’t present work in alphabetical order (by author), it had worked out that way for this edition. I am always careful to balance the kinds of emotion that might be evoked in a series of poems.
She was a street-smart vending machine; He, an emergency monitor production unit. No one thought it would work out. He tended to stay in one place, To run the same diagnostics over And over, to have each day Only one purpose. She, every Evening, was loaded with the product […]
Coast Salish Women (a set of three poems)
The Zipper of Hungry Teeth
A Coast Salish woman crouches between two fallen buildings,
unzips the pavement as easily as a suitcase,
unlocks lupines and lilies and the silver scales of fish
discarded like coins too heavy to carry.
Snow White in 2015
Resting in her glass coffin, she appeared alive, ivory as snow, ruby as blood, hair dark as a starless night draping over her shoulders.
Love at first glance, the wandering prince claimed her like a relic for his castle.
Seven is a godly number: transformed dwarves, lights, beds, […]
The night is a sieve that separates the rain from the ghosts who deny death by heavy precipitation.
I’m the private eye catching the voices jumping from windows. Carry them in my London Fog
or return them to their rightful owners depending on the severity of the reward.
Scales sizzling in sun, she arches her back, eyes damselflies harmonizing with salt breeze. Outcrop of rock her sanctuary, she lowers herself back into the tide, dizzy with heat and half-blind from the mounting yellow globe.
Turtle grass climbs to a spit of sand. Overhead a kingfisher screams, plunges […]
Introduction to Abyss & Apex Poetry, October 2014
Please enjoy this ecclectic mix of poems, many of which are tangentially connected to form a loose theme. “Dust of Creation” by Heather M. Browne (CA) and “Supernova Sunday” by Ralph Monday (TN) kick off the selections with a pensive tone and beg questions of metaphysics, of […]
The old taupe pathway branches off into the canary grasses – and fog. A silver wood pitch – the old barn roof – looms in the field. A person trap, or home for owls.
There is no map of this place who knows how far – or what way – it is between islands. […]
Joshua Gage is an ornery curmudgeon from Cleveland. His first full-length collection, Breaths, is available from VanZeno Press. Intrinsic Night, a collaborative project he wrote with J. E. Stanley, was published by Sam’s Dot Publishing. His most recent collection, Inhuman: Haiku from the Zombie Apocalypse, is available on Poet’s Haven Press. […]
When you are done with this place, come and gone like the dinosaurs before you,
we’ll sit around eating cereal from your boxes, smoking your cigars, toasting to your waste.
We’ll remember you forever in our cockroach brains, how you worked so hard
to wipe us off the map, how you hated us almost […]