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...
Stacey Balkun even after the sun lifts & does its best to burn off the fog risen around our clearing it clings to the banks bruised by your hipbones by the hard ground still...
Bellee Jones-Pierce When your ex-fiancé calls you should be busy. Let him feel the lush delight of interrupting something. Have soapy hands, something risky and pungent...
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...
Rebecca Faulkner I am trying to remember — corners of your newspaper curled in a November breeze, mothballs in your herringbone tweed. Stubborn grief, my coat pulled tight....
