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Poems

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  • Mishap

    At the soiree, a hot ticket zooms off with a hot potato into the toy

  • In the Mud Marks Reveal

    another story:

  • Translation

    Food is a door you have to open

  • Tails | On the Other Side

    When our tails fell off, we had nothing to wag or wave behind us, nothing to curl up or

  • Mother Doesn’t Bite

    I bite instead and she needs salt,

  • Paper

    Damned if I’ll be the woman who collects mass produced throw pillows counts her

  • Happy Hour & Babies Cry at 5:03 pm

    Marcy lets us play

  • The Last Photograph

    a golden shovel on the opening line of Gwendolyn Brooks’ “To Prisoners”

  • The Living and the Dead | Arrest Warrant

    I already came here several times this year, aside from the pilgrimage

  • Brothers

    Who eats with a jaw half-cranked with counterweight

  • Lives of the Postmodern Poets

    You were born too late.

  • Two poems by Louis-Philippe Dalembert translated from French by Nancy Naomi Carlson

    dune of a beauty