Category Archives: Poetry

Alex Kashko Scrapyards The steel vampires stand, derelict statuesguarding their home, the scrapyardthat backs onto your backyardcome the night the vampire machinesrise and walk, undeadin their futile dance with them homeless fairies dancelearning to handle the burning  touch of cold … Continue reading →

Ann K. Schwader Apocalypse Swap Apocalypse was simple once. A phone the shade of midnight sunrise rang somewhere in Washington or Moscow, & the moan of missiles filled our momentary air to bursting with their urgency. One flashbefore the sirens’ … Continue reading →

R. Nikolas Macioci If Aliens Arrive Tonight Out where dandelions grow in the field and wildflowers break under cattle hooves, just this side of an ominous woods, the ship presses landing legs into soft soil. A radiant, blue aura surrounds … Continue reading →

Carmen Lucia Alvarado (Translated by Toshiya Kamei) The astronaut poet soars through silent streets at dawn at the height of rooftops crosses the immense translucent night and unveils the anguish of his mind he feeds on the mist of dreams … Continue reading →

Alexandria Baisden  The Scarecrow’s Lover My lover blossoms from the soil every year Velvet ivy twists up and c r a w l s around my applewood shoulders When he kisses me, my yarn mouth blooms with nectar Mossy palms cradle peony … Continue reading →

Bryanna Licciardi This is How You’re Dealing Her aggression has spread to the doctors who now refuse to speak to her directly, for fear of those heavy words she swings. It’s been weeks since you found out, but you haven’t … Continue reading →

Kathleen S. Burgess Night in the Rainforest … the Final Identity has no Final Identity but is—as the swoop cry of some nameless Frogbird—whoopsing it up under a dark leaf in the jungle. …            —Allen Ginsberg, Ayahuasca III in Pucallpa: … Continue reading →

Luigi Coppola Ntil We begin with drawing a line as a 1-dimensional construct, from that conceptual scribble we turn and twist and tense into a circle, a 2D extension of that initial, limited plane. As we gaze through that, we … Continue reading →

Christopher Collingwood Whale Dreams Music is the exhalation of emotion,a melody flowing between momentsseeping upon the edges of consciousness,like a scent rides upon memory. We all hear it—the truth lingering in the quietness,            born in fragments of a nursery rhyme;a … Continue reading →

Laura Theis writer in residence look up: here I am my lovecan you see me waving?no of course not all you see isa pale oval in your skybut remember it’s the only map you need to find me now I … Continue reading →