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Poems
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Archive
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A Bookstore in Hay-on-Wye
In a Tudor castle now a vast used bookstore in Hay-on-Wye
Andrei Codrescu
Over the Bright and Darkened Lands | Out in the Tranquil Bay
I sit in one of the dives.
Kim Addonizio
Dolls
The dolls wait for the children
Margo Taft Stever
Don’t Pick the Cherries Yet
Don’t pick the cherries yet—
Maya Sarishvili
In the Mud Marks Reveal
another story:
Sophie Cabot Black
Meditation on a Shower Rod at the Super 8
You and I are snake bit. Can we postpone?
Amanda Newell
An Occupation
The world will end in pink. Those clouds just above the horizon
Beckian Fritz Goldberg
Ancestors
Farther back than my grandmother
Fred D’Aguiar
Skin and Arioso
I am sending off my blood for the story of who I am.
Bruce Bond
walls | uncertain
one morning
Ute von Funcke
Post Structuralism
But the first idea was not to shape the clouds
Christopher Buckley
Listening to Stone
The man who carved you vied and gossiped
Alice Derry
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