Tag: poetry
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“Bloodbath” by Aremu Adams Adebisi
A meal is bought with blood, and then, chaos of hard clay. You linger in nudity, the night is serrated in embarrassment; rusty mist, absence of flowers, a floodtide of dust & shadows. Your eyes fall into the crevice of sound & quietude, an escape for boys who pray themselves …
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“Science news: Octopuses came to Earth from space as frozen eggs millions of years ago” by Caroline Grand-Clement
(after an article by Ciaran McGrath in Express) i am too colorful for their fragile eyes so i hide in empty vases, shapeshift into silent pride. they have called me too complicated on eight different occasions & eight times i have screamed back coward. afraid of what they cannot figure out they have broken my…
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“and god said: no gods” by Grey Burnett
before punk was Punk, before even she was “street urchins” or “worthless” she was “rotten wood used as tinder” before god took her safety pins and pierced the world she was already promised to the flame (i too am kindling) they say rock and roll’s post-war anxiety headache got so bad he…
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“morning reflections” by G F Harper
morning reflections say it with me in cadence: what place is this called the land of the free what place is this pulled from as you would from the depths of your lungs to spew trumpet sketches to find support in song in resolute inflection say it with me in cadence: what place is…
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“What It Means” and “Nocturnalist” by Betsy Housten
WHAT IT MEANS It means I walk the world in a shape I’ve only known since age twenty-four. Or, by a different calculation, since age eight, kneeling in my parents’ closet, of all places, hunting for Christmas presents, struck by sudden terror – what if I was gay. It means my relief was short-lived.…
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“End of the World Memory” by Jen Rouse
We sit at coffee discussing what it means to meet at abject vulnerability. Everything catches in my throat, like hearts. I avoid your hands. The link that binds my conscious mind to the mind I might meet on the other side of the table. If I have brought you through from another life, I…
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“The Invert,” “Flawed Song,” and “Scrapbook” by Lydia Friedman
The Invert Again she’s on the prowl. See the whisper of a whisker above her lip, the monocle’s claw tigering her eye, the silk silence waistcoating her hips – each button a fang on which a lover may catch. Which lipsticked voice will catch mid-croon as she prowls in tonight? Which saxophonic fang will…
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“Programme Terminated” by Gervanna Stephens
And when / the sun sinks / into the ocean at nights / turning it splendid / blue / and purple / and orange / and rainbow / and gay / does it wake / the Merfolk? is Ra’s definition / of a second job or volunteer work or magic / do the…
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“Use” by Chad Musick
I already know the use of the user, of mealy-mouthed blandishments, of white lies spoken by nimble tongues that reek of bleach. In the nighttime hovels, the net cafes with webcams duck taped to goose-necked lamps in private booths, we gather, users and used. The luckiest don’t sell their hope. They pay their rents, instead,…
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“Cornsequence” by Kristin Garth
{Editor’s note: we encourage you to listen to the audio file of Garth reading “Cornsequence” here.} The spirit took your eyes away. They did not blink once yesterday. Contemplation a mirror lake, self reflection, morbid mistake. Blind maternal insurrection. A husk, your body, in cornfields, was grown for children — brittle mommy/yellow corpse. Cornsilk…