My mind goes pitch-black.
A poem we received on November 9th.
They give you no damn right to lock me in jail.
All that remains is an orphaned heart.
Does becoming a parent damage one’s happiness? Or is language really just that slippery?
Lisa Patrick examines the things society throws away.
“There are many ways to pull grief out of the body but only one will keep the boy alive.”
Oh, Blonde Jesus, Pale Jesus…I’m concerned for Your health.
Gary Bouchard’s “headline poem” is part quirk, part admiration; a blank verse soliloquy uttered by a man who appreciates the value of boots — “Soles, holes and all the sweet manure they hold!”
Remember that opposites attract: negative/positive, hot/cold, boy/boy?
What is speech if not a neuron talking to another?
Anuja Ghimire juxtaposes the personal and the political in her recollection of the 1991 assassination of Indian ex-Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi.
In the wake of Susan Olsen’s homophobic rant, Jeffrey Berg’s bold reimagining of Mike Brady raises provoking ideas about sexuality, fatherhood, and American manhood.
I heard them through the wall of my hotel room
We start 2017 with Mark Ward’s exhortation that poetry embrace “the callous bark,” since “to beautify /the world [we] cannot be contained in stanzas.”
My benefits package was clasped a little tighter than my dignity, a little looser than my pride…