Posts Tagged ‘ Poetry ’

3 poems by Sarah Kortemeier

July 23, 2014
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SarahKortemeier-_Baby_Fever____Stone_with_Nineteen_Corners____The_-sarah_kortemeier_outdoor_color_by_jennifer_mcstotts

The Mountain   The mountain is really a series of itself. Deeper pockets of sky color float in its canyons. In certain seasons, it’s difficult to tell rock face from snowfall. The ridge line looks much sharper than it must, in actuality, be. When you climb, the summit is sometimes visible. You ran well,...
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3 poems by Arielle Greenberg

July 16, 2014
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Wormwood portrait LA

Who I’d Like to Meet   I am on tiptoe scanning our tallest bookshelves for something to pack to read on the plane.  I am scanful, tippy-toed: a girl without boots.  I am shorty.  I want to read something great, as in literary, and beautiful and daring, and something hobnailed by happy sex in...
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Poetry by Sarah Gonzales

July 2, 2014
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saritaHeadShot

fairy tales 2   I wish I could spit rhymes with the ease of a liberated tongue, relay my stories minus the empty hours of self loathing plus crumpled re-starts. maybe its true the birth of a poem (like much else in this world) means more with scars of a worthy journey.   At...
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Two Poems by Lindsay Lusby

June 25, 2014
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girl-tree

By Lindsay Lusby Girl with no Hands  Her own father mistook her for an apple tree, full-trunked and red-cheeked.  . So he hacked at limbs, a bedlam of branches and hands.  . He believed in the fruits of his delirium: . .        that the daughter-tree cut back .        would grow wiser next year,  ....
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4 poems by Andrea Rexilius

June 11, 2014
By
andrea

from New Organism: Essais   I want to think like a magi; as stones underwater reflect grief. How images capture tone, and temperature of what is glimpsed. To glimpse why the root is made desperate by inability of its capture. Why, for instance, the word “woman” holds its own intention. One day on the...
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3 poems by Ari Belathar

June 4, 2014
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Photo-Belathar

  Sleepless song   If you had seen the sea flooded with flowers and my words in your hands in my hands the air burning between two drops of dew you would understand the rumour of abandonment that grows within me                 language of a dead child               scars and kisses   each...
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Poetry By Jaclyn Weber

May 30, 2014
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Weber, bio photo

  The Walking Dead   Girl in my history class totally started looking like a zombie from The Walking Dead.                 Maybe I’m watching too much Walking Dead…   She’s shake, shake, shaking those rotten corpse legs in off-brand Ugg’s in ripped up faded jeans blue. In...
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Poem Suite: Missing

May 28, 2014
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Poem Suite: Missing

Tourists By Em Bowen Around  this time last year, I started to read books about grief. I like to think that I did this because I wanted to be prepared for death, but really, it was an accident. I was in Powell’s Books a month before I left Portland and I happened to see...
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Poem Suite: Family

May 21, 2014
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Poem Suite: Family

3/4 Profile by Rasiqra Revulva   “A night full of talking that hurts, my worst held-back secrets: everything has to do with loving and not loving   This night will pass.” -Rumi – “There You Are” (translated by Coleman Barks)   my mother inserts her every displeasure like an implacable speculum, cranked halfway fever-warm from...
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A Tongue In My Mouth: Some Ecstasies of Daily Life

May 14, 2014
By
dia

By Dia Felix Into our night, I curl like a snail. To the bottom of the silver bridge, a tiny snail sticks. In this heat there is no real night. It’s dark but it’s warm and sticky and I never sleep hard.   Morning, I haunt the drugstore, my feet are barely touching the...
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Arts & Culture

  • 3 poems by Sarah Kortemeier SarahKortemeier-_Baby_Fever____Stone_with_Nineteen_Corners____The_-sarah_kortemeier_outdoor_color_by_jennifer_mcstotts

    The Mountain   The mountain is really a series of itself. Deeper pockets of sky color float in its canyons. In certain seasons, it’s difficult to tell rock face from snowfall. The ridge line looks much sharper than it must, in actuality, be. When you climb, the summit is sometimes [...]

  • 3 poems by Arielle Greenberg Wormwood portrait LA

    Who I’d Like to Meet   I am on tiptoe scanning our tallest bookshelves for something to pack to read on the plane.  I am scanful, tippy-toed: a girl without boots.  I am shorty.  I want to read something great, as in literary, and beautiful and daring, and something hobnailed [...]

  • From Corpses, Artworks and Dreams of by Raha Namy

    The novel Corpses, Arts and Dreams of is a triptych that hopes to tell the story/history of a people of a place and time, from three different angles, in three different styles. The first book deals with life in the city of Tehran. The second is on the people who [...]