John Nieves When sleep slips and the walls slip and the newsof the day is about who has slipped out of selfand into numeration, into a graph of a graph, thisis how we lose our breath. We lose it...
Arnisha Royston i bought a gym membership. worked out on the same machine in the same corner everyday. there is a man that likes to workout two machines down from me. i thought about waving at him. i...
Jane Zwart Consider the forsythia. Considerthe child who jostles that basketof saffron antlers. Considerthe charm of goldfinchesblown from the bush, sparksfrom ember, and the lemonsucker the child...
Nikki Barnhart From our vantage point on the bleachers, we watched them. We sat shivering, frozen still, in polyblend short-shorts and tee-shirts knotted—coquettishly, we let ourselves believe—at...
Katherine Huang Winner of the 2022 Greg Grummer Poetry Prize 1. In ancient times the two Moons agreed: one would stay in the sky, while the other would go to live on Earth among mortals. ...
Carolyn Oliver Sunset casts a madder wash across the last nun in the scriptorium, coats in rose her last psalm, her quill from a river-plucked swan. Near the margin, a gash—...
Corinne Wohlford Mason After the Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon The way a child explains the rules of a thing to me. Handwriting from another century. The smell of eucalyptus. What a...
Shay Swindlehurst 2022 Greg Grummer Poetry Contest Honorable Mention God had made for Adam a Jungle. The Gardens of Eden rioted, strived against Adam’s toil. Each day he cut the...