artist: micheal keck by Chris Graves the church bells, temple bells, dinner bells, and funeral bells all sermon the wind, river psalm the cracked clavicle and clarinet of voice never networking. the world follows the drip drip drip of stars, dreams into porous pull, and iconic phases of the clanging moon. the moon dangles its…Read More
artist: yecenia torres by Kristen Dunn There will be a time and place for me But I guess it is just not now The thread is unraveling And I don’t really know how Life is always moving We are dictated by the sun I remember when he met me But I didn’t know he would…Read More
artist: anna okrasinski maddox by Kristen Dunn Feeling some type of calm even though my body aches I like the way I’ve lived I do not see any mistakes people are destructive Emotions more intense than my own sometimes it gets the best of them sometimes their true colors are shown a call out to…Read More
Artist: IG @silenttthings by Kristina Krumova with it you can write a poem on my belly and if you don’t like it you can wipe it off with your hand with a dress a sheet or you can leave it to drip down slowly until the words lose their meaning You can leave it to…Read More
Artist: Augusto Avila Jr. by Kristina Krumova XX Century Be patient, be patient… The Tomorrow will come two-dimensional abstract almost colorless wrapped in shiny cellophane of forgotten opportunities sent anonymously From the stamp, glued askew, will look at you… The Today XIX Century We are sitting at the table, drinking… The Yesterday is…Read More
The girl who invited me
to live in her tent camp
so she could teach me Chechen
sat staring in the corner,
fearing that any motion
might trigger an explosion.
Grozny’s flats were levelled.
Dolls lay disembowelled on the floor.
Glass shards covered the earth.
The road’s yellow ribbon rolled
like a carpet, limning the edge
of my escape to Vladikavkaz.
Mourning by Stacey Z Lawrence
Yet deep within this dire stirring,
I still curl near you,
atop worn velvet couch, pull
piles of pillows below our feet
by Stacey Z Lawrence He is eleven, almost a man when the belt’s buckle catches under his skin. As usual he grips the kitchen sink stares at the faucet drip as she whips. He never cries, but this time bloody puddles stain his white socks, the canvas of his Converse, gore trickles down his leg.…Read More
Artist: Nicola Esposito by Ally Schwam I created the rain. It’s one of the first things I created. Two years ago I started as an assistant at the Creation Center and then a year later got promoted to junior programmer. The first task I got was to program what a higher-up called “rain.” Rain was…Read More
source: canva by Fabrice B. Poussin Counting the drops, it is not always clear that a flood may be coming by way of the river. Walking on the tow path, mooing at the bovines, singing the melody familiar to the wild coyotes; no light seems to hold power over the new darkness; clouds thick as…Read More