ENTER A SUBMISSION TO PLUME

Poems

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  • It Was A 3.8

    My mother said go get me a plum.

  • It was never he, | One might say I’ve fulfilled the miserable obligation of constructing myself.

    It was never he,

  • It Will Start One Day

    you know, it will start one day, the ebb

  • It’s 3 A.M., Winter, and Nine Miles from Truckee

    and nobody better than I to tell you about

  • IT’S A CLASS THING

    She looked better

  • It’s Not Just Trains

    The ticket office was closing

  • It’s the stage of grief where [I become a transparent eyeball]

    I become a transparent eyeball. I am nothing. I see all.

  • IT’S 4PM IN THE E.R. AND I AM REARRANGED WITH A SMALL SADNESS

    I don't know what made me think

  • It’s Not Your Fault

    The brass lamp in your window,

  • IX. Ophelia’s Garden | III. Tears

    After the turtle shook the world from its shell,

  • JANUARY

    This longing for him the choke in my throat again —

  • January 28 | Basho

    Today it is snowing again and I’m thinking of Borges.