FELL
In August, the summer grew hips. We dipped
our tongues into scoops of ice cream round as
the moon. You dug up a dead tree in the garden
to make room for new growth. The deeper you dug,
the …
Since 1968
In August, the summer grew hips. We dipped
our tongues into scoops of ice cream round as
the moon. You dug up a dead tree in the garden
to make room for new growth. The deeper you dug,
the …
49, Poetry by Sarah Cavar
by which I mean, suitcase, by which I mean
my father, who is like a pancake
or a sugarless plane ticket:
Flat, such that the boarding
of him’s near-natural, all neutral,
shirt falling unheeded from neck to nip to
slender …
48, Poetry by Brandi George
48, Poetry by Supritha Rajan
48, Poetry by Morgan Eklund
48, Poetry by Shelby Clark
48, Poetry by p. hodges adams
48, Poetry by Brian Czyzyk
She said, Let there be stories; and there were stories.
As she spoke, her breath crystallized into the shapes of birds and beasts.
But the animals were forgetful,
so she had to teach them to remember the words that …