Word up. Yo.
Read more "READING WINDOW NOW OPEN!"
Send us your best poems
because we want to
Send us your naughty poems.
Send us your funny poems.
Send us your poems that the
Sewanee Review refused.
Send us your poem with the word
“dick” someplace in stanza 3.
Send us your poem nobody
understands but it’s got sexy courage.
Send us your poems because Cacti Fur
has been around for, like, 3 years
and that’s the longest
any poetry journal has ever lasted
in the history of poetry journals.
Send us your poems because
that’s what poets do.
Here’s our submission guidelines.
Responding to Facebook
“What’s on your mind?” The white and blue screen asks.
What’s on my mind? Money. The cost of hospital-grade tubing that is in your nose when you wake up.
What’s on my mind? The cost of honesty. I’ve been racking up hopes and dreams, only to find expiration dates, boundaries, and under used gym cards.
What’s on my mind? The relief that this moment will disappear from feeds by worthwhile-thirty. This one is for the boring generations, STILL (italicized) on Facebook.
What’s on my mind? I am too comfortable with this format of communication; and I miss coming home late, and thinking that “I’ll just be tired,” like when I wrote that letter the night before surgery, or on the eves of confessions past.
What’s on my mind? She walked by the fish tank…but she didn’t even tap on the glass.
Read more "LANCE GAMBRELL – RESPONDING TO FACEBOOK"
But what’s really on my mind…I don’t remember
We’re designing new men
cut to length
arbiter of luck
maker of stage
huge and triumphant
unable to remember or feel
men made out of iron
men who whistle
and club words off of pages
and the names out of children’s mouths
what luck with forgetting
the forgetting men
made new and bright
made out of everything you’d seen
from the lighthouse in Windsor and Bohemia
and older places
watching them move into the light and out of it
while you shouted their names
to see if they could move in time
find Robin here
Read more "ROBIN WYATT DUNN – NEW MEN"
This week Sapling talks with Jim Thompson, Cacti Fur. * Sapling: What should people know who may not be familiar with Cacti Fur? JT: We have an aesthetic and you do too. Sometimes ours match and it’s cool. Sapling: How did your name come about? JT: We are in Southern New Mexico where there is lots and lots […]
Read more "Sapling’s Recent Interview with Jim Thompson of Cacti Fur"
Trust this young pair of lips
professing what only
a page should learn
I’m a phdiddleedee
Full of lala
Inhaling your blahbla
I’ll be your puppet
if you suck it
I’m looking for
There’s no pill for you
The names of the body
parts you’re looking for
I need to do an independent study
I can keep a secret
are by appointment only
Today began with vaping
and ended with the professor
I’m property of the graduate department
Return if lost
Run if lost
Merry, merry Christmas!
Grad school is delicious
May experience loss of people
May experience loss of self
May experience loss of language
Unspeaking of language
No such end
No such thing
against your office wall
And it’s hard to swallow
with your brains in me
in your mouth
a blunt flinging attention
’til you cranberry
And it’s the lovefest of the year
Coming ’til we’re dust
Find Summer Qabazard online.
Read more "POETRY: Summer Qabazard – LEXAPRO"
Sulphur or Wood
It’s the first thing upon waking:
The outline of your loss
Like a bare sun in the morning trees.
Before you can even recall specifics
The longing hits you, cold and absolute.
Your own name, still lost in the dark
Of sleep, yet this feeling rising
Through your body
Like a rage or sickness.
It’s the kind of thing you feel
When you realize the best of days
Have passed before you, and you
Missed the music.
Regret so palpable, you can call it
Sulphur or wood.
The simplest of news holds no richness
Against the fiber of this grief.
It moves through your life
Until the world is full of ghosts
It burns for no other reason
Than for the love of ashes.
Something in you so quietly razed
That no one at the kitchen table
Can see the chilled fire
Eating at your eyes.
visit Seth Jani online
Read more "POETRY: SETH JANI – SULPHUR OR WOOD"