Bayley Sprowl’s visceral “SKIN OFF MY BACK” sings the song of the body—its dirge, its elastic melancholy and trembling want of other. The poem seeks to understand: such want in the end, and in the beginning, may only ever be…
We were so excited to see this strong narrative poem in the slush—a story of a young girl with a rock in her hand and purple in her blood. Laura Argiri pulls out character and action and scene from poetic…
There is something wonderful about the prose poem, the way it elongates our necessity of closure, and the way, too, we are swept up into the rhythm of the sentence; the prose poem illustrates a world we both know and…
Beauty, life, growth, abundance—these are a few things a garden can represent, and of these few things comes family, the sacredness of one’s family, the ways in which love is the vehicle. In Justin Danzy’s, Sprawling, the garden is, and…
New month, new courage: submit yourself to these fellowships, magazines, awards and internships. Remember, too, acceptances and rejections are by-products of this journey—crafting your authentic art is the goal. And as always, submit poetry for free to our New Voices…
“The wind wants what the bird wants,” writes Gnaomi Siemens in “Becoming Animal, and reminds us how close we are to nature; we are only a ravine, a wind, a falling away from becoming less human, giving into the desires…
We are thrilled to announce that moira j.’s debut collection, Bury Me in Thunder, is out with Sundress Press! They’re generously letting us share this excerpt with you, the stunning “Rawhide for the Archer’s Knot.” Enjoy, and take home their collection here.…
Sometimes it is nature that is able to portray our exact experience; “When I Die You Don’t Have to Divert the River for Me” by Barbara Mossberg reminds us the river can represent life and death – “Meanwhile the river…
“The Introvert & Life Beside” by D.R. Shipp reminds us sometimes the monotony of life draws a black cloud over our heads, and sometimes the day is filled with marvel, with Cobb salads, with crowds. And these things, the everyday-ness…
“I unmake all these memories, and the shrapnels are balls in my armpits”–how often do we find ourselves stilled by memory and trauma? In Hussain Ahmed’s “The Wall as the Diameter,” we briefly enter a world in which a speaker…
