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      Mace in Her Pocket She is used to walking unafraid of the echo off her heeled steps, moving through the parking lot in a still-dark, early morning hour. Mace in her pocket, fur coat on her back, fist wrapped around her keys, she takes a breath...

      I had a dream I had a dream.  I dreamt it’s time to go. It’s time to leave. It’s time to stop this game. My boss appeared, the one from years ago. Her face was pink and thick with orange paint. “Still here? They don’t pay you any more”, she said. ...

      How To Bury Someone Else’s Da Make sure to pick the proper season. July is saturated, so is November. Spring is the perpetual king of felt-tip leaks and drownings, too full already. Remember how the whiteness of Winter is able to cool heart muscle...

      How to Write Software First feel. Shape the solution. No different from the flint knapper sitting with his rocks; seeing the skin scraper’s hidden form. Or the weaver woman stringing her loom. the finished kelim in her mind’s eye. Then you must...

      Poem inspired by an imaginary painting by Leonora Carrington Her hair is an updraft of orange flame, expression blurred like an early photograph where the cat is a flurry of paws. She has the small feet of an infant, but calloused from a lifetime...

      A Life Where are the aunts of yesteryear? Where are the moles under Granny’s lawn? Where are the pickled frogs and locusts? Where are the lizards, where the kiss on the banks of the Moselle? Where is the Wall behind the Brandenburg Gate? Where is...

UPRISING & RESISTANCE IS OUR NEW TITLE PRODUCED IN CONJUNCTION WITH SPREAD THE WORD AND BLACK BEYOND DATA'S MELLON FOUNDATION FUNDED UNDERWRITING SOULS PROJECT. These poems from featured poets Keith Jarrett, Remi Graves, Courtney Conrad and malakaï sargeant...

      SEVERANCE After Aisha Khalid I hear it’s rather like a firewall         that was Swedenborg & here is                                                            the womb where Mozart                                                      can’t...

      SELECT BODIES   We didn’t say it coming. Preoccupied  By interchangeable analogies (the jasmine Blossom burdening the Avenues, plus several other factors)  We walked to the library, anxiously Equipped. The afternoon  Swung on its tender,...

      Daffodils  Smarmy cunts. Hiding from me, in chattering spheres, year-round spectres of a season delayed. Budding in a darkness unknown - I will remember numbness. A yellow that melts, butter upon frost, their smooth openings jar in the aisles of...

      Snowdrops I remember you from my crayon days. Clung about the tree like children to a maypole, you held green secrets close, the magic of the changing seasons folded in your petals. In the months before my mother died I anticipated you with...

      Death’s Head Moth The effect is to produce the most superstitious feelings among the uneducated, by whom it is always regarded with feelings of awe and terror. ‘The Death’s-Head Hawk-Moth’, in Edward Newman’s An Illustrated Natural History of...

      Wulf and Eadwacer’s Daughter Make Meatballs after the Old English poem   Jessa Brown, a UEA creative writing MA student, has been an Acumen Young Poet. Her work has been published in the Brixton Review of Books, The Mays, and Young Writers,...