Injury and an alternate way of seeing.
What is there to say? “I want to be a Polaroid snapshot /of a sunset. I’ll call it selfie # 569 /while I die.”
Steven Ray Smith’s celebrates a guy’s love of machines.
on divorce IThe cost, a few miracles, a few fires in the inner ear. A few thighsfull of dreams and dreams full of bankruptcy. A few nights beneath lies.The point is, he lost them all and her and the brown breadfrom a can and could still paint its raisins with the charred tip of his…
William Ellis explores intergenerational discomfort and the silence some parents use as a way “of holding back /the pain of all they lost.”
Given Lababidi’s background as an immigrant and Muslim in Trump’s America, he passionately hopes that this book is received as a work of hope, peace, and healing for our wounded world.
“anything mechanical /is coiled magic in function.”
Randall Watson’s poem of desire and connection crosses into ecstasy– “we, man and woman, initial, /feel the thin wet skein /of the darkened concrete /the light’s epidural ease.”
A Lois Lane’s love poem to her Superman–a guy who is “part strength, part sleep /part Kryptonian and /part peanut butter addiction.”
“There is no such thing as a saw— /only hacksaw or band saw or jigsaw or circular saw”
Adult sensuality and childhood playfulness collide in startling ways.
Bread of LifeThe baker crawled inside his ovento test his faith. Or so he told meIt was deadly dark and hot with that heavy doorshut tight behind him.Too dark and hot for his idea of Jesus,he said. He was afraid. I took his word for it. After his cautionary tale was donewe shared a loaf…
Embed from Getty Images—Shaming is used by parents, teachers, government, police, social media, healthcare professionals, and countless other entities to punish and to ensure compliance with dominant values. Women, immigrants, people of color, LGBTQIA folks, and people with disabilities are particularly vulnerable to shaming and its long-term effects, not least of which are anxiety and depression.What…
In Rajendra Shepherd’s poem, an outsider watches “blue eyes” as “They traipse, followed by prams, /Full of dreams /wonder[ing] if they know, /The bickering of ram-packed neighbours, /Rum so hot it can fire-up any temper.”
Connolly Ryan captures the wistfulness of fatherhood: a man and his daughter “feeding the geese pretend-bread /and laughing at their easeful /acceptance of this fiction.”
“I never knew who he killed all those years, but I knew who he tried to save…”