Dust to Dust It gathers behind doors, the muck of hours and days and years, blown through vents and tracked in on the soles of shoes that have hiked through hell and heaven. They may notice at first, casually, but awareness is soon cloaked within other thoughts, other times, the tired ache of heads ready […]Read more "DUST TO DUST – C.S. FUQUA"
Talking about weather they say meat substitutes are spies like prose poems or undercover agents who can’t keep their mouths shut, who keep talking about the weather meanwhile my grandpa died the way he lived— talking about the weather, flirting with nurses, dead-set on never letting tofu pass his lips when you live in a […]Read more "5 POEMS – LANE CHASEK"
Forthcoming from Beatlick Press in September 2021 “In his stunning sophomore effort, The Pieces You Have Left, Tim Staley brings you to the woods and asks you to stay the night. In this moving and fast-paced collection, Staley touches on an array of subjects–space travel, love, fatherhood, masculinity, death, solitude, youth, and dementia–delving deeper than ever […]Read more "A RARE AND DIFFERENT TUNE – A PRE ORDER OPPORTUNITY FOR OUR READERS"
After I See Your Post About Visiting L.A. I reach out– longing for connection. When surrounded by seagulls, I look for the first semblance of friend. Not that we have much to anchor anymore, conversationally. Dolzani’s English class. I didn’t read assigned books. Didn’t become The Old Man and The Sea. So many years to […]Read more "After I See Your Post About Visiting L.A. – James Croal Jackson"
Transplants Supply and demand—- Two coats, even in July, one wool, hooded, the other matching sweat pants. Underneath? Long johns. Feel better? He needed air, on bad days especially, especially when the tide came in, when the wheelchair was too obdurate, when effort was a graft some small hope provided and waiting was […]Read more "TRANSPLANTS – Stephen Mead"
After Ahmaud Arbery 3.23.20 His arrival here cut one background from another. Five hands sprung from each of his wrists. I wipe the ashes off the armoire. I light a new stick of incense Morning Star Mellow Pine. He sits on my sofa deliberately. The muscle spasm in his leg ribbons the room. From the […]Read more "3 POEMS FOR JUNETEENTH BY TIM STALEY"
“Gravity Grateful” Looking down from high places doesn’t bother me at all but when I have to look up at things, like buildings, it makes me nervous cause it feels like some kind of force like a magnet or something is going to pull me up and lift me off the ground which is a […]Read more "Gravity Grateful -Mark Blickley"
“a little bird” I stare at the shed and notice a bluebird on that nearby tree, on that branch halfway up, chirping. Hey, my coworker says Hey, I say Are you distracted, she says Sorry, I say And she leaves And I go back to my bird. But it is no longer chirping on that […]Read more "A LITTLE BIRD -S.M. Moore"
“pellucid” I am still here floating in this grey space knowing nothing but this blurring smoke that I breathe and exhale pondering on whether this is living or simply being alive but if this is what life is then kiss this life from my lips blow out my candle and do not call out my […]Read more "CHICANO LIT – 3 POEMS – Ricky Winters"
Red Pick-Up Truck Daddy stood sticks In the corners of the bed And tied on a tarp To keep the worst of the sun off us. He laid down blue moving pads And lifted us little girls With our frayed cotton dresses And brown, bony knees Into the bed with coloring books And a few […]Read more "RED PICK-UP TRUCK – ANDREW HUBBARD"