Tag: Poetry Spring 2023
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Adam Woodard – “An Obituary for My Ability to Make Friends”
I am saddened to announce the death of My Ability To Make Friends. My Ability To Make Friends passed from this world last Thursday following an unfortunate public speaking incident. When asked about his current poetry project, My Ability To Make Friends gave an awkward, meandering response. I heard about a guy who made 20…
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Catherine Perkins – “What Sex Are They?” and “Winners”
What Sex Are They? I research the Encyclopedia of the Webfor how to sex marijuana plants.I find pictures of minute ball sacsand hairy white pistils the size of gnats.Outside, with magnifying glass in handI stand, spread open fans and spywith my cyclops/eagle eye for micro-penis-like protrusionsand frog’s-hair-thin-threadsof trichoblasts on tits as small as titson a…
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R.H. Miller – “Genome” and “Junction Cemetery”
Genome To see my genes encodedwould be an experience of terror.I should be overcome by bothfear and awe. Doctors predictwe will all be mapped nothing hiddenforced to face Nature’s dirty secretsface our Alzheimer’s our Parkinson’sour Huntington’s our cancersour MS our ALS our cardiac flaws.Yet as for me I prefer to stumble oninto the end of…
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Kathleen Gregg – “Sightings” and “Cut, Gathered, Arranged”
Sightings A glee club of honks drawsmy eyes skyward. Canada geesesoaracross beaming blue sky,a rippling chevronof sound and wing, life in full flight.Like my sister, once. Not this ghost of a featherdetached, adriftin thickening fog. Lifeabout to lose visibility. I watch the formation shrinkto a black arrow shootingsouth. Most geese will survivethis grueling migration, never…
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Adam Valentine – “Lean so I can whisper” and “You better hope you don’t run out of wishes”
Lean so I can whisper You know how he comes riding up on his tractor, shaking like his edgescan’t set, rolling past you a little since the brakes don’t work right, tellinghow he’s ready to scare the grass down around the radio, the dogsraising from piles like dirty snow, him covered like the dust tried…
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Melissa Helton – “Blip”
Blip – after “Today” by Hao Wang Today once more,the sun glared off the winter-saltedroad and my eyes narrowedto mostly-blind slitsas I commuted east. I will trynot to make thata metaphorfor being Americanor being white in Americaor being a straight-passingqueer in America. I will leavemy poetry notebook onthe bedside table, beside the crustyteacup whose baghas…
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Bob Bires – “Redeployment”
Redeployment The last hourcomes downto a fruitlesssearch for an olivegreen sock,baby Joshua screechingeach time one of themsets him down,the tv’s irrelevantweather forecast,burnt meatloaf,and the smell ofheated metaland bitter smoke,once the watersteaming the potatoeshas simmeredaway. Robert Bires writes in Chattanooga, Tennessee. He and his wife, a Kentucky native, married in Lisman, Kentucky in a small church…
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Hallie Fogarty – “Fidelity”
Fidelity Chainsaws on summer morningswake you from razor-red dreams,drag you from the harsh softness of sleep. In another life, you wake in another woman’sbed, with vomit on your sleeve. In another life, you ache for this one.Ache for someone to instruct you,to invent a time machine,take you back to when the earthwas soft beneath your…
Pegasus 