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Poems
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GHAZAL 4
How sullen we’ve become in the belly of the empire;
Deema K. Shehabi
Hi. My Name Is Billy Hollands.
And there it is, that little tilt of my head –
Bill Hollands
GDR CHINA | LAMB
My housekeeper had the dishes brought
Ricardo Pau-Llosa
The Morgue is Closed & Pélican Dans Sa Píeté
Any décor depresses when it shows
Martha Serpas
Taxidermy: A Translucent Love Poem
We are bound inside of the taxidermied falcon.
Julianna Baggott
The Minefield and Uncanny Daddy
In the hospital after so strangely
Charles O. Hartman
Plastic Bag Caught in a Tree
Some dark animal’s
Kevin Prufer
Study: Old Watercolor and Joe
I bought an old watercolor in a primitives shop and brought it home to my in-laws’ on summer vacation.
Sandra McPherson
While Another Dove Nude into the Breakers
One talked with a talisman
Stephen Ackerman
DELIBERATE AS THINKING IS THE RAIN
Stepping off the door lintel, down onto the grass as the day closed around us, grass, rising up inside its own squared
Elena Karina Byrne
Letter to Jed from Niebla
I’ll write you about being a stranger, as I am also
Jessica Greenbaum
Uncle Yehuda Sharvit Between Marrakesh and Draa
When my uncle Yehuda got drunk
Erez Bitton
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