Dmitry Blizniuk for World Poetry Day

  The Memory of Lives incarnation. God in his worn, greasy jeans like a car mechanic is lighting a new life from an old one. a new cigarette from a cigarette butt. and you are merely a flame between the two worlds, smoked on an empty stomach. while he breathes...

Jeff Skinner

      Erato It takes ages. Tell me what it is you’re after she says, when finally I get through. Rain, I answer, rain that falls softly in a garden, and on the Aegean, the noise they make together, trees in the rain, and the way rain brightens the green...

Annabelle Markwick-Staff

      Olympics I devoured the Olympics, filled my mouth and scrapbook with sticky ephemera. I stalked a torch, seized my shining, perforated prey, and stared into the void of Wenlock and Mandeville’s eyes. Sometimes, I am in the Olympics. I crawl from...

Charles G. Lauder

      Craftsmanship beneath night’s skin he unearths raw stones serrated     encrusted    enigmatic    cold tumbling them in two-twenty grit wears away the dull four hundred    six hundred highlights the delicate garnet’s exposed seam     agate’s...