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Category: Poetry

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Generation

Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue—
In the picture I have of you, Melts in the wall.???
The idiot
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot,
your root,

I never could tell where you—
Put your foot—
For the hearing of my heart—
It really goes.

by a computer, Sylvia Plath, Zach Cohen on December 11, 2016

Teeth

He’s quiet, sleeping almost, naked and thin on the bed. I could leave and he wouldn’t notice, mouth open to the dark gun of his throat, teeth apart.

by Isabella Grabski on August 20, 2017August 20, 2017

Passenger Announcement in Progress

A soft chime. The PA system exhales with a crackle before speaking.  Good evening, passengers, and  welcome aboard Flight QTR955.  Please ensure your seatbelt is securely fastened.  Stow all carry-on  memories beneath the seat  or within overhead compartments.  Pack lightly … Read More

by Momo Sonoda on November 8, 2025

The Correct Way to Harvest Carrots

First, bleach your thumbs white. When you reach your hands inside the dark, ancient soil they will glow like night worms.

by Rachel Stone on March 30, 2014March 30, 2014

listen for green anemoia

twenty minutes from the center of the city once rice fields that my grandmother admired each morning whispering to dragonflies in the cup of her palm  squint at night and see cold stars tearing away the horizon motorcycles and black … Read More

by Olivia Roslansky on September 13, 2024September 14, 2024

Bantam River

They rocket down to the water where stones are smooth gems, opalescent grapes, the eyeballs you grope from a bowl in a spook house.

by Eliza Mott on November 14, 2014November 16, 2014

once, Chagall

“Jubilation—that is the meaning / of this anti-reminiscence.”

by Lynn Kong on October 9, 2022

Sunday Matinee

Blind Guy sits on park bench, looks out, the day reacts: A Man jogging by with his buxom new Bride envies a Widower, lonely old fat— propelled by gravity, on a skateboard he glides sips a milk-shake, hits a hidden … Read More

by Will Pinke on March 9, 2013March 22, 2013

Sprinkles

The construction guys are wearing neon hoodies and eating grilled cheese sandwiches, Sprinkled across the lawn like lobster buoys — “Confetti thrown from heaven,” you’d call them When I was on the boat and couldn’t sleep. If I went back … Read More

by Anonymous on April 24, 2016

ON WAR AND WRITTEN LANGUAGE

“the human can only know themselves to be human /
because we condemn the three dimensions /
of our thoughts”

by Brittani Telfair on November 14, 2021

Ars Poetica

“Brought back to the smooth oil, our skin so platonic in the bathroom light. / Enough secrecy for love, enough ugliness for comfort.”

by Sabrina Kim on May 30, 2021May 30, 2021

highs and lows

“i swallowed your lies / and they came back up as tears”

by Andrew Somerville on April 10, 2022April 10, 2022


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