May this invention issue a multitude of orders
& may you disobey them all
That shatter records will shore their action
Against our luminous attention to beam beyond a flat & white refrain.
Plucked from the ground
Like ribbons from a gift box packed with a doll,
Earth needs our bones gliding over it precisely less
Than we the song issuing five or six feet above the green.
The decorations who make the gift thoughtful
Should not be confused with the doll itself in all its mute & painted glamour,
As living matter, plastic cells
Lush with the spell
Of carnal affinity flinging through our veins, is not the same as life.
We love the world for what it reflects as much as for what it contains.
Read MoreOther people draw
& I am not involved.
As she speaks, the receptionist
the good-smelling nurse
the softer airport security pat-down
light sweeping sounds
pthalo blue on liquid white ensue.
(from "Bob Ross")
Read MoreI was in another state, trying to get things done
there was less than stubble in the field and still something rattled
you think “possibility,” please explain exactly what you mean
(from "Song of Accumulation")
Read MorePoems by Callie Garnett, Rob Schlegel, Rawaan Alkhatib, and Lindsay Turner
Art by Sarah Sense
Read MoreOnce, I was a child. When did that horizon
Preface history by saying the center wanders?
Once, I was a child; I built a little boat.
By saying center, it wanders, it wanders—
Blown by breath caught in a sail, toy breath,
Toy sail, out into the unbreathable reach
The center goes, goes wandering, toy boat.
(from "Middle Ages")
Read More[...]
Him I found in the dative case
thrown concussive on the very air, west expectancy:
he said I sat close enough to notice if I wanted
his black eyes burgeon at cruising altitude
and before descent he could, he believed, if I wanted,
taste it rocking back,
like dialing a memory.
(from "Nurse Mustn't Rummage")
Read MoreCrisis in absence, practice howl tuning
its force, that old story
dragging a moralizing
wolf out of the matrix. Called
to the porch to picture the mouth. Every first
Wednesday of the month, if it’s clear.
Why would you stop yourself? Who are you talking to?
Get back in the house. Where are you?
Pack counts off. [...]
(from "Siren Text")
Read MorePoems by Feng Sun Chen, Jennifer Moxley, Micah Bateman, and Jared Joseph
Art by Kyle Goldbach
Read MorePoems by Christian Schlegel, Jane Gregory, Mark Levine, and Jerimee Bloemeke
Art by Sarah Faux
Read MorePoems by Marianne Morris, Jessica Laser, Brandon Kreitler, and Corina Copp
Art by Bryan Schutmaat
Read MorePoems by Elizabeth Willis, Alex Walton, Lucy Ives, and Daniel Poppick
Art by Jered Sprecher
Read MorePoems by Robyn Schiff, Brian Blanchfield, Margaret Ross, and Dan Beachy-Quick
Art by Chad Andrews
Read More