Denise Duhamel poet

Denise Duhamel

I cut the line, honk my horn, chew with a full mouth, / then burp. The piercings in my ears have closed, / my heart has closed. And my clothes? I’ve stopped / doing laundry.”

Denise Duhamel poet

Denise Duhamel

I cut the line, honk my horn, chew with a full mouth, / then burp. The piercings in my ears have closed, / my heart has closed. And my clothes? I’ve stopped / doing laundry.”

Gaurav Monga

This Radha, unlike the one I spend most of my waking life with, drives a car with impeccable accuracy, almost as if she has eyes at the back of her head. This Radha, though cold and calculating, has been having sex with many men behind my back. 

Zach Gomez

There’s something grounding about a god who knows his place. Yet there’s something terrifying about a god who knows how to bring us down with him.

Helena Pantsis

Helena Pantsis

Husbands are not so hard to make: / my father is three microwaves / stacked on top of each other.

John Bonanni

John Bonanni 

Away from the key rattle of an office, / exiled from a bathroom, a school, a hospital / into you I return like the scratch on a vinyl

Dzvinia Orlowsky

Dzvinia Orlowsky

Raised to be polite, / I offered each lawyer / tiny sweets, iced / water with a bitter twist

Jessica Goodfellow

Jessica Goodfellow

There are things ha-ha funny about going / blind though. Like that time he walked / wearing a three-piece wool suit into the deep / end of a swimming pool in a hotel in Italy.

Erika Eckart

Erika Eckart

Maybe the witch wasn’t a witch at all, not to start with at least. She was just a mother who couldn’t feed her babies …

Imran Boe Khan

Imran Boe Khan

The baby onesie I stitched in the garage / became a colony of ants that nightly streamed / down my cheeks.

Lisa Bass

Lisa Bass

My joy / comes shot through with longing / it will not linger / for days like that acid gas. / I might have only moments / left before this exhilaration / dissipates

Sam Szanto

she is rising alone, pirouetting to her balcony / to throw her sapphires onto the street / as the audience gazes, she is laughing

Paul Hostovsky

I want bicycles to be my last word, my dying word — / not I love you, or bless you, or God forgive me, / but bicycles.

Jan Borna. Photo by Martin Špelda

Jan Borna

snow falls on horses hauling wood / beyond the opaque windows, / our seats shake over the tracks / and you touch my knee

Erin Wilson poet

Erin Wilson

I dream of holding a baby / a simple dream // My body will not let me // I dream of lying on the earth / a simple dream // My body replies, some day …

Max Sessner

This dog / how he looks at me / as if we must have known each other / I pay and / we chat a little longer / once we were / like brothers he says

Anna Belkovska

At night fish scales and the yellow brilliance of holy figures would glimmer in me.

Semyon Khanin

the future is the raw, then it gets braised in the present, and finally fried to doneness over low heat

Inga Pizāne

You get used to everything. / To contemporary dance and poetry. / To Bukowski, who drinks and fucks in every third poem / and sends everyone to hell.

Petr Hruška

True darkness is in a child’s bedroom. Deep black. Elsewhere there’s just a meager, watery twilight, in which everything, in the end, acquires a humiliating distinctness.

Jeff Friedman

The autocrat draws a large crowd for his speech. He begins to speak but no words come out.

Gerry Stewart

Calling this city my home / is a weighty dream I cannot cast aside / or let them haul away.

Jeffrey McDaniel

Little kisses have a way of growing / into big penises, said the grandmother / on prom night. Little leaks sink a ship / yelled the captain, seawater on his lips.

Joshua Weiner

The sun was high, and it was like the air wanted to have sex with you. Looking down I could see him slowly make his way along the street, stopping to say hello to someone, a man waiting with an old style hat …

Karel Šebek

I was in the madhouse I’m going to be in the madhouse I am in the madhouse everyone is / I write to keep the train on course to crush me / it’ll happen on a morning no less beautiful than this

Charlie Clark

My friend / the advertiser reminds me it was the poet / Lew Welch who came up with the slogan / “RAID Kills Bugs Dead.” He was a Buddhist, right? / I don’t know why he killed himself, but when he did, / his body was never found

Clint Margrave

Even if they exist, we are still alone. / Not like they’re going to invite us / to any of their parties / or read any of our books.

VJ René

After breakfast I force his genitals through the wind / shield of the white convertible, crying like a child. // The situation allows me ample freedom to explore / myself in various trajectories.

R. A. Allen

Friends and loved ones visit less and less, / and then not at all. Maybe they’re starting / to get the joke, to figure out we’re not down / there in those holes. Look up. We’re here —

Patrick Redmond

I say lovely too much, & it means nothing. / Outside is lovely. / The purpled sun is lovely / in its polluted backdrop / The shadows of men dangling from the roof

Beaver West

Springtime, I’m stoned at the wake. / Dad’s gray face sunk in makeup / asleep in the box. Mom weeps, / holding hands with the drywall guy.

J. Alan Nelson

Pablo Picasso enters his blue period / when his best friend stands from his plate / in the middle of a Paris café / and shoots himself.

Susan Barry-Schulz

On the island of Saaremaa I would have been considered a beautiful bride. No / shame there for size ten feet and thick calves wide thighs and no wonder.

Justin Lacour

I am a coward, / even in the service of exposing kids / to beauty

Siobhan Ward

Someone shouts There’s a fucking kid shot in the head. / After your death, from Belfast to Florida, your face / on murals. They say Lyra lives on. But that’s a lie.

Tim Postovit

I was the last place on the planet / where astronauts slept / my last customers were the planet’s / last people

Nelly Sachs

Which vein burst / to offer the holy geometry of yearning / a homeland in your eyes?

Mark Scroggins

Mark Scroggins

That thing you forgot to do last year / has turned out to be important.

Josef Kučera

There was a rippling pond and the croaking of frogs / and various birds anas crecca, / there was the tingling of sand on the Borecké Rocks / and the cracking of pinecones

M. Nasorri Pavone

I asked a man I was in love with once / if he was in love with me. No, he said.

Eric Nelson poet poetry poems

Eric Nelson

Eric Nelson’s new collection, Horse Not Zebra, which includes “The Creature,” will be published in 2022 by Terrapin Books.

Karel Šebek

Karel Šebek (1941-1995?) was and remains the most astonishing figure of modern Czech poetry.

Jessica Q. Stark

Jessica Q. Stark is a poet and educator living in Jacksonville, Florida. Her first full-length poetry collection is Savage Pageant (Birds, LLC, March 2020).

Pavla Melková

Pavla Melková is a practicing architect, visual artist and writer who regularly lectures on art and architecture.

Angela Topping

THE LAST QUEEN My sisters, deep in our cells, are still feeding me. But I know I will be their last queen.The succession dies with me. My

A. N. DeJesús

SPELL FOR ELSEWHERE An angry bleat urges me to fasten the seatbelt, metronomic clickof the blinker punctuating its screech-song. The windows are down & the

Radka Thea Otípková

OF Of my father’s failure to perishaged five        of rheumatic feveras well as his father’s undrowned boyhoodof my mother’s mother’s lilies-of-the-valley in a church

Patricia Zylius

MY FATHER TRIED TO TEACH ME THE FOXTROT The simple, square geometry of it was clear to me, but I couldn’t follow him.My hand on his

Sara Moore Wagner

NOT ABRAHAM When the dog wakes me up at 5 am,I wish for a coyote to get her and thenregret that only after I’ve takenthe

Milan Děžinský

NOVEMBER Such a picture of witheringdemands active engagement.Chrysanthemums bloom into the snowlike the color of a wounded animal.A free moment between incrementsof time filled with

Derek Ellis

CLOUD STUDIES Constable, in Hampstead,paints hundreds of clouds in oils on paper. He’s precise,dating them, adding commentary to their backs. His wife’s healthis nodding away

Christian Formoso

NEW DOOR STREETCALLE PUERTA NUEVA, SEVILLA from here—across the forehead—to there. he motions. although the pronouncement promises little. the excess description would suggest quite a

Justin Lacour

These words may make you uncomfortable. I won’t say I don’t care what you think.  Too many people told me that growing up; I won’t say that to you.

Francesca Bell

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: WE/US/OURS In the name of accuracy and inclusion In the name of full disclosure That we may say we love us and also

Kelly Grace Thomas

THE RING-TAILED LEMUR THAT SMELLS THE WORST IS IN CHARGE OF THE ENTIRE GROUP During face-the male odors himselfto victory.Rubs himself sticky in pheromonesfrom chest, cock.Saturates tail in

Douglas Piccinnini

PALM ROSE A moment goes unnoticed or cautiously glidesinto meaning fearful of its makingout of sequence, plotless and blessedwith almost “stupefying tones” but steadilywalking through

Michael Collier

MORNING CROWS IN A FRESH MOWN FIELD BEFORE RAIN Three in a group then one coming from a distanceto make four dividing into two scavenging

Max Sessner

ANGER I want to be someone else ayellow midday spreads itself outall the way into my pocketwhere coins clink and myfist lives with which today

Jeff Friedman

THE VOICE IN THE BUSH A fire burned in the bush outside my home. I stomped on it, but it wouldn’t go out. I threw

Brooke Schifano

LITTLE SHORTS Little Shorts, I bite my lip watching you billow up a breeze. Little Shorts,you tease. That loose fit. That wide stride. Know you

Sheila Dong

ABSENTEE a plastic sword sits in the dirt, next to a blank sandwich board. no one else is around so i wear the board and

Jeff Fallis

A talisman against the agony /
in his knees and hips //

for which he was taking /
black-market fentanyl

Vítězslav Nezval

I greet your gliding flight O wings of death / But there are other signs too

Ondřej Buddeus

The initiating parameter was me realizing that the horizon is a line constituting an intersection between at least two systems, the inner and the outer one. Between an observer on the move and the roads within the landscape …

Richard Jackson

the story / the two white women will not retract, despite the fact /
that inside each story we tell another writes itself

Andrea Jurjević

the intoxicating ministry of dusk, the anchor of daylight lifting, sheets white / like a freshly crushed pill, // the vortex of the body and the clap of the / coral tongue…

Matthew Olzmann. Photo by Margarita Corporan

Matthew Olzmann

The thing with fathers is each was built /
in the same factory, each has a single atomic clock /
inside his chest; there’s a timer /
on every question.

Leanne Drapeau

I tithe 10% of my new underwear to my future / self, the one who has fallen in love.

Francesca Bell

The man keeps telling me I’m beautiful. /
I still look young. //

He says it like I’ve asked for it, /
but I don’t care. //

For him or beauty.

Dion O’Reilly

How did you travel up my country, /
land at my neck, /
complicate the frontier between /
chin and throat? Oh, folly—

Justin Lacour

THE BIG SKY About twenty years ago, I was at a party at some guy’s house.  A circle of us were in the kitchen, cheering

Emily Bludworth de Barrios

WHO BEGAT THE EARTH? Who begat the earth?     I did.    I grew it three times in my belly. That isn’t true.    

Mirjam Frosth

ABOUT THE FISHMONGER’S WIFE   Careless is a man shuckingbrides like bait mussels––to show such indiscretion,            to fatten so in

Tony Gloeggler

I don’t want to put him on the spot / and I know I’d think less of him / if he gave the wrong answer. Instead, / I name names in my head, a long list / of friends who would have let me die.

Justin Lacour

TRUE STORY The only time I ever hitchhiked, a woman in a hatchback with a dolphin decal in the window stopped and picked me up.

Richard Jackson

The woman carrying her life, /
who passed by a moment ago, calls out /
from the next street and someone answers, /
but not to her.

Kate Gale

TALL POPPY   She walks around with her head in air. Like she’s somebody. Who is she? She came to town, built a library. Who

Erik Kennedy

NINETEENTH-CENTURY RURAL ROAD-BUILDERS   They built roads we still use to move people we now judge and things we’ve replaced with other, similar things. They

Stanislav Dvorský

  DURING A NIGHT STORM   perjury of lightning bolts: a fish spine rises from the trenches of the wound-up day, disrupting darkness how many

Radka Thea Otípková

The bus stopped, I think, and people poured out, / baffled by their heavy hearts, / and not one of them, not one / thought of the kite.

Jeffrey McDaniel

ST. PAT’S On Metro North, city-bound, the Hudsonunspooling. The surface is glassy and then sometimes it ripples, says my ten-year old, Camilla,as if she’s describing

R. A. Allen

I went out to my mailbox. / Everything was addressed to a previous / occupant (twice removed) / who is now, / according to my neighbors / deceased.

Rebecca A. Spears

MADONNA WEDDING ENSEMBLE           — Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2018   Before the mute mannequin, I am dumb-drunk. Before the mannequin,

James Lineberger

WHAT GOD USED TO WANT   They lived way out in the country in a cement block house with a flat roof and their union

Tim Rogers

THE CRUXIFICTION   The pull of a powerful diesel heart greasy and generous as a locomotive her rails paired with circumstance Calvary, Golgotha, iron spikes

Karen Greenbaum-Maya

BUSY   French bees are dying, she tells me. Not because of big Agro pushing its products, threatening finance interruptus, the short-term win killing the

Eric Tran

DOUBLE DEPRESSION   I learn it means people prone to sadness who develop depression, but it reminds me of a favorite Chinese restaurant: Double Happiness,

Heather Sellers

POOL   At the red light on University Drive, I sat in my car in the rain as two sedans spun in slow motion before

Erik Kennedy

FOUR LIFE FORMS   I was having an affair with my partner’s therapist, and she was having an affair with mine. It didn’t feel great.

Michael Mark

SARA SAYS SHE’S HAVING HER BREASTS REMOVED   Our child is cutting off body parts – and will only stop, she says, when she gets

Ken Nash

WE WERE NEVER ON THE MOON   We never went to the moon. Instead we grew roses and fed our neighbor pasta and fruit salad.

Jane Ann Fuller

FLASHPOINT   Your death is still an opening through which we see the life left in this world. What you took from your sons and

Lianne O’Hara

TRANSMISSION   a greater connectivity This is what they said when steel feet were firmly planted in stone earth and five modern pyramids erected towards

Michael Mark

  ALL TODAY I LIVED   without my glasses. They lay on my night stand, smudged, staring up. My fingers traced photographs, their memory fuzzy.

Rebecca A. Spears

YES AND NO   Yes, my mother is away. No, today I won’t see her. The dementia fractures her the same way ice splits a

Norman Finkelstein

  THE ADVENTURES OF PASCAL WANDERLUST   Book 3 1. Symbols and tables, charts and graphs, elements and molecules, the atom and the Adam. Fire

Kamil Bouška

  [YOU ARE AT THE END OF THE DAY]   You are at the end of the day and your hands turn quiet on things.