-
August 19, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
for Michael Burkard Still winter. Snowing, still. Can it even be called action, this patience in the form of gravity overdressed in grey? & how should we respond to this world, with...
-
August 4, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
We are ink frozen, dancing in the skinned house weaving through the den of ceramic frogs, the salt and pepper shakers dressed in the mask of hens. Five children cousins with the...
-
August 2, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
GYPSIES Crowded among the sailors on Columbus’ third voyage were farmers and crossbowmen, a miner and a priest, and several convicted murderers, including two gypsy women. That...
-
August 1, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
…were all wrong. I have always had a disastrous sense of style, and even when I followed Seventeen magazine like a religion, I didn’t know what would work on my slender, awkward...
-
July 4, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Yeah bring our electric shaver back, I bought it we shaved each others back it was important to me and why did you take that case of car batteries I had, your last guy was right you took...
-
July 4, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
for Nikki I met a descendant of Zebulon Pike (Pike’s Peak) in Santa Fe. She told me that she thought a blow job was when you went to the beauty salon to get your hair done¬, I...
-
July 4, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
for Carry A. Nation (1846-1911) Oh, Carry Nation, she’s the one I love. Her kisses—man, what killers! Ax fits her fingers like a glove To chop down Satan’s pillars. ...
-
July 3, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
i good friday heading south in a black car to an evening stations of the cross— piano, violins— on the way two buzzards sharing the bloody carcass of a...
-
July 2, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Cedar mulch rough on hands willow shedding leaves tiny room, thatched roof worn and weathered wooden bowl clay pot cracked and brown walls stained with children’s fingerprints dog’s fur...
-
July 2, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
I watch the dead from my porch the way a bored person watches TV. Some drive by in fast cars; the brief glimpse of their smiles is like walking into a dark room and opening the light....
-
June 23, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
North: after the storm, all dust hung up in the crowded air, with his human face frozen into a dot of dust and a rising speckle of dust melted into his face to avoid this cold climate of...
-
April 19, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Use with permission by Jasmine. An author, performer, poet, teacher…yes to all of those titles, but more importantly Jasmine Mans is an artist…an artist who enjoys having...
-
January 6, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
I go right through that opening, pulled by the howls. The stars shine like hooks over the flat land. In the dark a cactus touches my arm. What did I do? What have I been Before? Got up from...
-
January 5, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
1 Yes, we were country, lived in shotgun shacks, where the road loses its way to dirt and live oaks and all along the way ancient cypress, but we’d play deep in the swamp, where Collins...
-
January 4, 2015 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
My mother one afternoon in a cowboy hat, sitting on a Texan bench of hay. Me in the same configuration of time, space, & cowboy hat. The memory in my brain like a boulder in a haystack,...
[new_royalslider id="17"]
Ana Flores is a sculptor and ecologist. Her work is informed by how pla
2 Poems
Let Me Straddle Your Mind
The Crusader
Yeah bring our electric shaver back, I bought it we shaved each others back
it was important to me
Kwame Dawes
1
Yes, we were country, lived in shotgun
shacks, where the road loses its way
to dirt and live 
[new_royalslider id="11"]
Courtesy of the artist and Mizuma Art Gallery
"Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to lea
Junot' Diaz
and Edison, NJ
The first time we try to deliver the Gold Crown the lights are on in the house but no on
Elegy & Poem
"We are all the other."
…and find inside a picture,
of myself as a child, sitting
on a small chair, wearing overalls
an
Raphael Perez
To Alex, on turning two
Some say the Ring of Brogar
is the Circle of the Moon.
There is n
March on Washington
An Interview with Cheryl Evans
In a strange twist of what seemed
like reverse vandalism, the Graffiti
Mecca was painted over. 
Forest Gander
A Translation
Quassan Castro, poem
Grandson to Grandmother
Wynwood Walls, of Miami has been called "a Museum of the Streets."
Low like the mean dream
of Newark the sky must
have seemed to its builders.
Rickety now, unhingin
At last, the extremes
of his present methods
seemed to offer
the happiest avenues.
The strengthe
5th Limb
Poems
Poem, Knot
Poem, Look This Way
Xue Du, Poem
A woman in a black kimono dyed black hair
disappeared behind a black curtai
Poem:
Behind the War On Women
Maria Mizzotti-Gillan
Short Story
Pilar Fraile Amador
poem
Lady Haiti
David Trinidad
Landzy Theodore
Angelo Nikolopoulos
