Author Archives: Editor

Louis B. Rosenberg Tweetstorm   I saw the best minds of my generation reduced to         hashtags, glassy eyed and necks bent, dragging themselves through tweetstorms at dawn         hoping for a viral post, fast-fingered influencers trolling for a fleeting … Continue reading →

RK Rugg     The Beasts Are Gods               Erasure Poem             Baruch 6, the Epistle of Jeremiah   You shall see in Babylon                their gods.          They holdeth a sceptre as a man                                  and                        … Continue reading →

Babo Kamel One day, they say I will fly. But not today   I wake under a sky wrapped in violet. The sun shimmers silver over a place unmapped. Thirst drives me to a prism of water. Each drop carries … Continue reading →

Elizabeth Kirkpatrick-Vrenios The Wound Beautiful   I was born to the coldness of Icelandic stones. Finnish Sisu deep in my veins leads me past the icy scar of Mother’s thin lip and whip, a mark laid on my worth: never … Continue reading →

Nikoline Kaiser Nykken I have not seen the ocean, I’ve never been to the sea; so, imagine that I, who am devoted, have been in pain, all this time. That I have struggled to the miniature shore of a pond—small, … Continue reading →

Elizabeth J. Coleman Blue Planet, 1990   They seem at home in the photo, the two   boys who kiss on the subway platform at Voorhis Avenue   in Brooklyn, back when it was in black and white. They seem … Continue reading →

Oliver Smith Apnea   Your eyes unclosed, star-fractured, gasping from a wild ocean of dark planet-fall // The-slow turn of the engine-heart lost in storms-unmasked—this atmosphere of red pain, incandescent-flux-in-flood // Your breath stolen, dislocated in sharp fragments and-empty fractures … Continue reading →

Lisa Creech Bledsoe Web Breaker   I have decided not to wait. The sky-blue Commelina blossom lasts only one day. Nothing happens later— it’s all now. This morning’s fog is slowly melting against the spider webs slung hickory to hawthorn … Continue reading →

Stephanie Yue Duhem After the Singularity, the Programmer Goes for a Walk   A hedge of hawthorn scythed by moonlight. Mute fronds palm the sky like penitents.           A yellow plastic bat         in the white snow.         I … Continue reading →