Nancy Mitchell As you grew it grew. A foghorn moaned in a sea of soybeans. Nothing the cop said, to see here. But you stayed and waited until you saw your face— a...
Alex Tretbar We came here for the endangered Chilean sea bass but I can’t even hear myself chew over the smooth jazz. It is appropriately unbearable when I decide to butter my bread instead of...
Phillip Crymble ——— for Robert Lowell At Roosevelt, the orderlies were forced to break your wrists — the large brown-paper parcel that you clutched against your breastbone heldin place...
J.C. Rodriguez By rolling together gray hairs, capers, nettles, & tuna in a page ripped from an old tabloid. A tube seared into existence from burnt dust & browned butter. It’s smokable,...
p. hodges adams2023 Greg Gummer Prize Runner-Up come hear me, in my twenty-fifth yeari stopped having sex with gender i meanmy lovers all favored the vestibule of language outside the party i mean i...
RJ Equality Ingram For Wesley Gibson Often I have imagined myself arguingSoftly w/ the wind & wake the way oarsSlip in & out of the murk barely a splashA quiet night on an...
Peter Vertacnik –after Patric Dickinson All the doors are locked. The dog’s been walked. Each tap, each burner off. No dome-light glows in the garage. Through that...
Rachel RothenbergWinner of the 2023 Greg Grummer Poetry Prize Somerset County, Pennsylvania Half a cow is disappeared from the farm in Berlin, a two-ton Holstein, it makes the paper. Gone the...
