Luciana Arbus-Scandiffio With my dress made of picnic blankets I set out for the tundra. I put on my clogs,my suit of gathered hairs. The coins collect in the crags outside and I collect...
Heikki Huotari Heikki Huotari in a past century attended a one-room school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower. He’s a retired math professor and has published poems in numerous...
Nora Claire Miller Deep Friend Poem #63 Deep Fried Poem #64 Nora Claire Miller is a poet from New York City. Nora’s chapbook, LULL (2020), was the winner of the 2019 Ghost Proposal Chapbook...
David O’Connell The way bright tulips launch themselves from bulbs and nearly hyperventilate each spring. And how the fair-bound pumpkin swells like some past king announcing gross...
James Miller The priest satnext to meon the planeto Rapid City. He was suffering.Flushed cheeks, clenchedjowls. His ziplocked icehad mostly meltedby the timewe leftthe tarmac. Still,he heldthat...
Sneha Subramanian Kanta Every journey is a prayer. A pelagic traditionfor the traveler. The wing-field inside a cloud. Ghosts paddle in sphagnum. Fire between sunand hill. Grasslands in the afterglow...
Susan Grimm How does the body signal its willingness. The returnof muscle swing, the wherewithal for almost bounce. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stretching the inside stufflike a rusting cord. Full weight on...
Kameryn Carter I say Jesus wept in placeof weeping. I say, I wasborn submerged. Proposition:wilted salad in a bag. Corollary:ain’t’a that good news? Today I farewelled my deadin the drive-thru...
