Betsy Fagin miraculous fishes surviving body feast days bosom ceiling already-formed tenderness the marvelously luminous genderfish fills their nets with the bell cure of souls not cranes of vigilance or safe-keeping, only ravens of heresy want knowns combust and survive…
Browsing: Poetry
Wendy Barnes Lament of the Swamp Hag I am not your paramour but made of your leavings, moss-haired, cypress-limbed and guts of chum and dogwood-chunked loam. This season turns you toward your fear, churning storms and waterspouts, the livid…
Danielle Vogel from A Library of Light When I was small and still living with her, I wanted to write to all the dead people I had never met. I wanted to talk to those concentrations of energy I felt…
Carol Mirakov kintsugi invisible irrelevant women having aged paralyzing animation of living & having lived ecstatic elastic disasters of time the perennial fuckable virgin apparition unlike animals we wince collapse bearing the seams of interconnectedness we should not be able…
POEMS ON LOVE OF IDENTITY / IDENTITY OF LOVE Curated by Sharon Dolin Sharon Dolin is the author of six poetry collections, most recently Manual for Living (2016); Serious Pink (2015 reissue); Whirlwind (2012); and Burn and Dodge (2008), which won…
He buzzes me in, the stairwell narrow. His shop is filled always, holiday or not, with clients and clever women, an eagle’s nest from which he views the world below— “Bespoke Clothier” gilded on the plate-glass window. The room is…
The only hard thing is the alarm everything else I love— flicking on the coffee dumping goggles, cap and clothes into my bag for later slipping on the suit greeting the sleepy doorman who opens the door to the street…
to the pigpen I have prepared for you. Come and settle your fumes over the couch where I have lain myself among my books awaiting your arrival, O Grievance and Resentment, you well-worn pair, with your inspirations. You, the comfy…
Drunk and depressed twenty-five or so, waiting at bus stop, Cyclone behind me. Wanted to turn and ride but too self-conscious, even drunk. A pity. I loved this brain-rattling roller coaster this gravity train the slams and turns and…
Your wine-deep Eyes wound In the dark The gift of abandon on your lips: Open roses to my thirst Exultant petals *** I spilled the wine The stain spreading Over my prince’s white scarf A sign the rains of distance…