Hemispheres | Madeleine Bazil

Year after year, adaptation: neverunwieldy, but steady. Sometimes careless. Always there is traffic, and groceries.Those are the easy things. And then sometimesthese ruptures, or raptures.                                          Great distancesexpand / contract with my breath

Parched | Samantha Schnell

Parched When I woke up this morning I was thirsty for waterso I went into the kitchen and made a coffee.  Then I reclined on the couch, warming my ovarieswith my laptop

TO SEE HER GO | Gaven Lover

I’ll tell you from experience that the night sky looks different after your mom dies. When the moon is out and you remember some old poem about how every person that has

Transmigration | Justin Groppuso-Cook

I bore the badlands, burned my birth certificate in a sweat of cedar. Shed light upon the burial. So obsessed with stars I toiled with the earth, knowing nothing of the sacred, where

Flying Ant Day | Emily Montgomery

how the winged ants poured from holes in the orange hill and we kneltrapt as they clambered up blades of grass in clusters and hurled themselves into the wind carried like small parachuted soldiers in

Orange | Jesse Lee Kercheval

I see a shadow at the edge of everything, dear friend, I see a darkness, anhinga  with its ink wings wide. Some mornings the world smells of ocean, others of rust.  Some

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