Two Poems | Jennifer Trainor

The Sun, Naked A tidal surge of greenacross the Vaca hills,new grass,mermaid hair.Wind announcing spring beforeits time. Mustard waist-high,furrowed rows of vines,the sun, naked.Lupine flushin purple rash as if to say we’ve had enoughwinter rain.

Voice Memo [ecology/transmissions] | Cory Hutchinson-Reuss

Clatter-drawn, drawn by hail.In rain the stones go soft and feral.You’re ferocious in trauma’s pelt,prickly skins each generationpasses down, heavy and re-stitched. You’re a roar of grassesand lashed panes, a rabbit haunchquivering

Two Poems | Jeff Whitney

What Happens in Hour Four? I’m paying attention to the lyrics in this song  which go you can’t…always get…what you want…  but if you try…you get what you need. I’m paying attention

U up? | Charles Byrne

Dirty light in the tiny hours. Rubbed myself off on a fire hydrant in the shadows. For want of a more accessible protuberance. It was the old night terroirs had me up.

blue | Tomaž Šalamun

Translated from the Slovenian by Brian Henry healers  /  flat sky  /  flame gifts for the hill  /  dachshunds blue cellophane  /  blue color of bread blue white walls  /  dante blood

I Have Wasted My Life | Stephanie Cawley

I do understand what would drive someone to chart their loneliness on a grid. I do understand the precipitous tower of books relies on  labors paid and unpaid, mine and others, in

TAR, MARCH ’21 | Rebecca Crager

2023 Hattie Lockett Award Winner Memory finds me clean. I offer it space inside of my kidneys.It wants to know a face. I don’t have a face I only havehands. Bear the

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