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...
John McCarthy When we get home from working long days, we know there are longer days ahead that do not love us. The white salt-streaks following us home in the...
Matthew Tuckner Instead of dying, I decided to rename the birds.Outside my window is the yellow-throatedme-in-me. Holding its wing in my hand, at a rightangle, it looks small, smaller than the radial...
Michael Fulop There is so much green in the summer.It is like a book with green pages.And on the pages a script of green writing.The words at first are difficult to make out. But then you see.The...
Gustav Parker Hibbett Greg Grummer Poetry Contest Runner Up, 2020 Center-right: wings invisible, pinned like buttoned fronts of jackets around a rigid waxdrop body; small-clawed feet fixed or glued...
