Category «Poems»

The Beating of the Wings- Teresa Sutton

I want to fold myself up, lie on the ground, and listen to the millions of feet shuffling towards something that sounds like divine thunder.   Except it’s not. It’s a hushed noise, comforting, the beating of wings.   Deep down in the earth, the zest of my universe congeals in all of the porous …

The true things-Irina Valerina

Not many of the true things are yours, but what you have is enough so that the light remained light…   The delicate casting of the park fence, the odor of the wet needles. The sand-covered walks, and acorns full of languor, the cat breathing with its bushy belly, the dewy knees of the benches, …

Professor and the Gravel- Laura lee

  You reading another damn book of poems, Da asked early morning slur and clink don’t you have to work?   Char looked out the kitchen window kept clean for a view west–to the tall buildings she tried to then stopped trying to get to.   Can I walk, she wondered, ripping shrink wrap leafing …

One of the Many Poems About Him- Rose McKnight

The circular thoughts that exist in my brain of you, When I love somebody, I want to keep them away from the badness of the world, I want to feel like I’m just a few feet underwater all the time, Where the surface is blurry but beautiful and it reflects off of everything and I …

An Archaeology of water-George Amabile

AN ARCHEOLOGY OF WATER for Tracy Jager   I tell myself, don’t make a sound. The river is asleep in its glistening skin of lights, and all the sails are furled.   This is the hour of translucence, a gift of shadows wrapped in veils of moonlight, veils of air,   like thin scarves whispering …

Getting Somewhere-George Amabile

If you live long enough, you might arrive at a place which has no name on Earth maps. And your arrival will be haunted by a familiar but unexpected sense of belonging, to the future, that wilderness of guesses (except, of course, for death though death has its own little clutch of maybes) and to …

Going South-George Amabile

GOING SOUTH for A and the others   We’ve come down here where the air is warm as blood – ten days in faux time, designed to heal a year of distress.   But when toothpick and paper umbrellas in billowy glasses fail to console, we resort to the sea, where we, and everyone else, …

City Scene-Peter Beda

I. Abstract shit convert legit inate legal action posing for a fraction get a piece of the action                               fragmentated day and night sirenes electric prostitution contemplated billboard games people play in the centre of things           …

Dying In A Dead Dog-Stuart James Forrest

A dead dog in the road; more precious than gold to a lonely black boy that was eight years old. Even more precious alive was my only friend; petted, cherished, hugged and hoarded, away from all of you. We would never die. We would never be killed, but he gamboled into a street of cracked, …

Evanescence- Mary Auston

Out there into the black hole, I’ve waited for millions of years into the constant maneuver Gravitational singularity what they call is pulling me with pleasant seduction rules to adhere Right there, right here, we built an endless horizon of sentiments Fossil down the infinite memories of our sensual flavors and our erotic relevance Sleepless, …