Some days all I need to be happy is a subway seat
and a Diet Dr Pepper. Other days I’m waiting
for the fog to spell out my name (it never happens).
I want to believe in the bulbous green …
Since 1968
47, Poetry by Joanna Fuhrman
Some days all I need to be happy is a subway seat
and a Diet Dr Pepper. Other days I’m waiting
for the fog to spell out my name (it never happens).
I want to believe in the bulbous green …
47, Poetry by Athena Nassar
47, Poetry by Bernardo Wade
47, Poetry by Maegan Gonzales
I wake up sweating. My nostrils are raw and peeling skin. I cough to catch my breath. I have no fever, no flu. I keep losing things. Last night it was my twelve-year-old daughter in a cornfield. We rode in …
47, Poetry by Maari Carter
to let me know Sonic
is including gravy
in their chicken strips dinner again.
He asks when I’m coming home
for Thanksgiving. We don’t
speak often. Having not been raised
in the same house, little has passed
between us— no …
47, Poetry by Ashley Crout
It was you or your house that dead-ended the road
and fitted my living in until I could nothing
but survive amidst the furniture, the clothes
the drawers closed in that blocked my body
from the vicious in you, from …
I can imagine the horses grazing
by the shed in the pasture opposite our house
—the off-limits grounds guarded by a fence
we could easily hop and signs advising us
not to. If you leave the house today
I’ll be …
47, Poetry by Amanda Gaines
There’s a little purple space cadet,
folding a cease & desist into a fortuneteller.
She isn’t worried about the asteroid lightyears away
or the screaming crew she forgot to release
from timeout. According to her calculations,
she’s got nothing to …
46, Poetry by Anne Barngrover
raises up animals from their water houses:
birds like wet laundry, alligators close enough to appear
long-lashed and serene, Florida chicken turtle
bundled in the apartment parking lot
as though delivered by drone.
46, Poetry by Jordan Honeyblue
I can fantasize
about a married man
holding me, breathing in
the scent of a new, shared morning
that suffocates the fragmented
perfume from last night still
asleep on my neck,
and the soft of …