Richard Jackson

Richard Jackson

REVISION You can smell the sunlight as it stalks us through the weeds in the abandoned lot. It’s like the old dog that circles before he finds...
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Miriam Gamble.jpg

Miriam Gamble

Where – aimlessly – did a guy like this / get hold of a thing like that, the mercenary wonders, though. / (A lovely piece: true vintage, if it’s a day.)...

Alison Brackenbury (2)

Alison Brackenbury

I will not tell myself / that young birds may be starving / if the two were a pair. / For how do I know? / I am not God / which is why I was sleeping / when the cat went out / when the cat came in.

Daniel Bosch

Daniel Bosch

At the World Trade Center, the bomb-sniffing dogs / Are shepherds, and Labs, and collies—not one Afghan. / Of thirty-four corpses on an acre in Helmand, / One is American, thirty-one Afghan. /

MJ

Mark Jackley

Suddenly your Facebook posts are lit up like the teachings / of Saint Francis or a birthday card from a four-year-old: / "I thought I'd post this song for my beautiful son Phillip, / on account he is an Arlo fan and a blessing," words / clear as rain, which up till now required beer and speed

Karen Greenbaum-Maya

Karen Greenbaum-Maya

carpet, v., n. : as in bombing, / laying down death, hot and bright, / covering with orange turning / to the black that erases, smudges / like punch spilled / onto carpet,

Christian Anton Gerard

Christian Anton Gerard

I cut my hair with a knife so I could be a knight. / I went to the river so I would smell like a man / who can handle the whole world. I was / a knight with armor on the inside, a lion’s / hunger mixed with a bull elephant’s thirst.

Lea Marshall

Lea Marshall

When you go, I will wash / your body, take your arms / each in mine and know, / now, their weight. Pull / the cool sponge along / your side, lift your feet / in turn.

Scott Jonathan Nixon

Scott Jonathan Nixon

At first you hear nothing but the alley cat calls, / then you start to hear the orchestra. / I'm running on a winding staircase / in an MC Esther labyrinth in my black wife-beater / with a ball of string.

Ernest Hilbert

Ernest Hilbert

Saturday, napping at noon, I’m shocked / When the refinery’s test warning blows, / Correct to the second—an empty alarm, / Fossil hum of Cold War, its bombs undropped, / Frightened ash of another time.

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