A Better Law of Gravity – Jim Brantingham
Monday, March 2, 2015 11:45 — 0 Comments
–taken from “A Member of the Wedding†By Carson McCullers Rain runs in rivers from the brim Of a hopelessly soaked hat. Water falls from his cardboard sign– “Anything helps. God Bless.†That plea, copied on so many Brown and ragged box ends, Could be dripping down Any wet leaf in any green forest. “A better law of gravity†Would not let this trace Of a human, this shadow, Fall so far from the grace Of a warm, dry room.
Oma at Night – Bob Sykora
Wednesday, February 25, 2015 10:27 — 0 Comments
Something’s missing in Los Angeles. The nights swollen blue with busyness. Not animals, not smells, not shrieks across glowing pastures. Just bus rides, so many bus rides, and the dripping headache of the factory: sewing, folding, sewing, folding. There’s no room for ghosts in all the noise, all the machines. No spooks in alarm clocks and televisions and microwave ovens. Midnight never smiles or takes shapes and goes meddling in the barn, rousing the horses. Dawn comes before any ogres can take her away. No need to tie down the moon to keep the night from ending.
Retirement – Richard Hartwell
Wednesday, February 18, 2015 15:01 — 1 Comment
Old men pacing inside maws of open garages,
Bustle – Brittany Cagle
Thursday, February 12, 2015 10:01 — 0 Comments
Old age is flesh close to the bone, the shrunk spine, bruises spidering and eyes cupped by purple crescents. A flight of bees swarm deep in the chest, dark, disturbed, restless— but what? The tongue cannot filter words out of the buzzing and begins to braid itself.
Urban Shadows – Jim Brantingham
Tuesday, January 20, 2015 9:34 — 1 Comment
Hour by hour the girders play as ribs and reach out and hold together the stone walls and floors. – “Skyscraper,†Carl Sandburg Shadows slide along streets and alleys, Slink slowly up old brick buildings. Each inch traveled along the walks Matches the vertical rise of concrete, Of steel and tall sheets of glass. Sandburg’s skyscraper has soul: The soul of dreams and hopes Poured into each cubic yard of concrete, Fastened into each steel beam. But these are squat soulless slabs That scarcely scrape the sky Yet still leave long black traces Where sunlight once brightened the leaves Lining […]
An Interview With Poet Susan Rich
Monday, January 19, 2015 12:11 — 0 Comments
Susan Rich and Kelli Russell Agodon co-teach poetry workshops for beginners to those with reams of poems coming out the drawers. This Saturday, the two will continue their classes with Demystifying the Manuscript: A Poetry Workshop. I caught up with Susan to talk about the class, her relationship with Kelli and the cruel hand of doubt.Â
To Memphis – Matt Morgan
Monday, January 5, 2015 10:51 — 0 Comments
I flush the ticket down the bus toilet. Plastic. PissÂglistened and disinfected. Below me the pavement surges ahead, hurtling me northbound along the flat back of the Mississippi Delta. There’s a xanax stuffed in my front pocket— and in the back, a fistÂclutch of New Testament pages ripped from a Gideon’s Bible. I’ve come to leave. I’ve come to wrap my arms around something new and squeeze it empty like I have everything else. My wife. My second wife. The savings account. I’d ruin every last person and crying child on this godforsaken bus if given the chance. If given […]
5 Poems – Martha Silano
Monday, December 29, 2014 11:23 — 0 Comments
Does anyone in the neighborhood go by the name Smurf?Â
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney
