RJ Ingram Eleven Marilyn Monroes schlep food From plastic trays into plastic buckets Every one of them is in high school They are going to get into college Good colleges in other states like...
RJ Ingram It’s noon & I am crying in the rotunda Someone has died or is about to And I can’t remember the color of my Lover’s eyes even though they are as Hazel as wood split by a...
Dorothea Lasky I can feel my own body Kissing my self as a ghost The smooth thighs Like a lover never has Like my mother promised me I’d be loved by everyone But it all came out A lie Instead I...
Michael Mlekoday Runner-Up, 2014 Greg Grummer Poetry Award The last time my brother had to bind his breasts, he and his girl waded out into the ocean. They unwrapped his binder and let...
Jake Syersak “Architecture as establishing moving relationships with raw materials” streams from Corbusier’s jaw as if it was its own internal dwelling, a thing, as in: the marriage of the...
dawn lonsinger Winner, 2014 Greg Grummer Poetry Award paperSay what you will about the car-choked streets, how no one can walk on the sidewalks because they are covered with cheap goods, but all I...
Gabriella R. Tallmadge Come some blood, some gristle. Let myself be unfurled, red tongue rolled out, wine-thick, a wave. Speak myself into existence. Open wide the cage inside me, survey my boning,...
Gabriella R. Tallmadge In your last letter, you said you’re living at Kajaki Dam, where the Helmand River is a muscular sash. Mostly, you see sandbags in the windows and watch the thin shoulders of...
Michael Lee In the desert, the heat itself is a thief and steals rain from the body. The stone, red as a bloodshot eye. The dawn opens like a hinge. A single raven bows from a fence post again and...
Leslie Marie Aguilar paper Lord, forgive me. I’ve done it again. I killed my father. You see, this time it was a helicopter blade. It just came down & around his head. There wasn’t much...
