Sữa: milk. (Watch the dip of your tongue–Sửa: to fix.) Curdle rinsed. Empty plastic gallons windchimed against your collected hollow aluminum. Cans creased sharp. Sliced your and mother’s fingerprints. Stung to grip the bag. Big enough to float. Gravity-less smile on cartoon Earth. Revolving wheels crush and haybale. Overalled, the attendant opened our bag to sort and toss. Five cents. Ten cents. Not in California, not … Continue reading “Speak, Plastic,” a Poem by Jade Hidle
I remember my mother dancing. I remember craning my neck to see her, tilting my head so far back that my eyes were in line with my heels, for when I was short and round and two-years-old, my mother was tall and translucent, and very beautiful and would have been twenty-one-years-old. Continue reading “I Remember My Mother Dancing,” an Essay by Manju Prasad
I follow you as you follow the one above you.
You take the cliff, the trees, the deer on your wings.
I am behind you watching the ground over which we fly. Continue reading “Cliff Notes,” a Poem by Diane Glancy
If you turn
to the Mississippi
river, you’ll see
the closeted Continue reading “Earth Gazing,” a Poem by Rubin Hardin
On the corner of 16th Street and Peralta, in front of the New Jerusalem Baptist Church, is an antediluvian dopeman who will give you balloons of brown powder in exchange for exotic cheeses. For a pound of Jersey Blue you can expect at least three balloons; a pear-shaped Caciocavallo Podolico could get you six, possibly seven. Definitely seven. It is a well known fact that … Continue reading “The Wheel of San Geronimo,” an Essay by David Simmons
and feet Continue reading “Callus,” a Poem by Chris Alaimo
See all. Father, Mother, Son.
weight and wait. Continue reading “The God Shammgod,” a Poem by Will Shook-Shoup
where my high school best friend piles tithed hearts
in the pixelated hallow of her hands. She ascends
offerings — flat tummy tea, knee-length modesty, steamed Continue reading “I Only Pray on Instagram,” a Poem by Kara Lewis
fruit flies suffocate
after i slip
flimsy white plastic Continue reading “taking out the garbage,” a poem by rachel atakpa
I stare at the ceiling
fan spinning, lazy,
my legs still shaking. Continue reading “Is this Love?” a Poem by Elliott Whitson