Emily Bludworth de Barrios

  IT IS SAD   It is sad That your thoughts don’t mean much Like how a movie theater Projects colored lights into your...
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Sarah Kirstine Lain

Onward / through war, it fires hymns.

Francesca Bell

On Linkedin, I see you soldiered some again, / and I imagine you running in the Iraq desert dusk. / When we were young, you sent a tiny, Korean flower / from your base, pressed between two slips of paper you left blank...

Michael Gould

my father used to tell me // of how Monk had once created / the most beautiful two seconds of music // my father had ever heard, by accident

Christeene Alcosiba

A starved dog returns to her vomit, / Not from need, but desire.

Josef Jedlicka

But who today can judge? Whose fault it is that we have forsaken each other? Who cast this spell on us that, sitting over a glass of beer, we read each other’s lips like the deaf for the lost words of fraternity and solidarity?

Gerard Coletta

The doctors at last made us love sleep. / Awake, I can only stagger, polioed, a foal.

Julia Anna Morrison

The cells you left in my brain fall around like shaved ice, / a song my mother sang in pieces // I still haven’t decided if I will leave you

The Future of Genius

Does genius have a future in our understanding of literature?

Micah Chatterton

Gosh darn it, but never God damn it / because you don’t speak for him. / Damn, but only if the skin breaks.

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