Today’s choice
Previous poems
Erwin Arroyo Pérez
New York City at night
Here, in my Manhattan room / insomnia tugs at me like a half-closed taxi door / letting all the echoes in / an ambulance carries the last breath of an asthmatic man / a few blocks away, a party spills over the rim of a rooftop / champagne fizz bleeding onto fire escapes / a wasted man howls into an empty alley / a tourist family dreams in postcard colours / a night-owl jogger runs in sports gear / three floors down, a man folds his infidelity into cheap hotel sheets / across the street, a college student—eyes hollow—types his assignment on a bioluminescent screen / not far, an orgy unfurls its limbs in the unseen crevices of a clandestine club / the first cry of a newborn ricochets throughout a hospital and fuses with the clamor of the street / somewhere, a woman pisses on a plastic stick and learns she is pregnant / and the city is pregnant too / with cosmopolitan offspring that breathe among the skyscrapers / within the lungs of New York City’s crowded womb.
Erwin Arroyo Pérez is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief at The Poetry Lighthouse. He also teaches literature and works as a translator in Paris. He holds a Master’s degree in English Literature and Linguistics from Université Paris Nanterre and King’s College London. Erwin’s poetry has been published in Paloma Press, The Nature of Our Times, The Winged Moon, Wildscape journal, Respublica Politics, Nanterre University Press, Des Nouvelles Heloise, and other American, British and French literary magazines. thepoetrylighthouse.com
Sally St Clair
I’d asked for this not to be recorded;
this failure on my part, to be a good
parent;
Olivier Faivre
monkey mathematics
A monkey grabs one nut here, one nut
there, and two more over there.
He counts them with care.
HLR
I find six errors in the proofreading manual & the irony doesn’t tickle me.
I am enraged by typos, poor formatting, missing commas. This is my Big Girl Job,
the one I always wanted —
Angela Howarth Martinot
What seems to be the problem ? He asks
in that slightly condescending tone.
Seems, I think, Seems.
It seems, I say,
that I have a problem with my inner fish,
Bianca Pina
My Dad once dismissed a friend as a hypocrite,
which I took to be an induction to the truth.
Lately though, I think the things I love in you
I love because they’re grossly inconsistent.
Ian Badcoe
We are eating dessert when the urge overcomes her
to scrawl mathematics, the night ticks on
Sim Pereira-Madder
Tom Giles once asked me if I had tools and at that
time I didn’t because I was fifteen maybe sixteen
Molly Knox
I count:
four cows in the meadows. Made
friends with them this Spring.
Pascal Vine and – – – ajae – – – for our Invisible and Visible Disabilities Feature
Chronic fuck slug
Chronic floor sleeping
Chronic fist seething
Chronic food swallowing
Chronic feuding skin
Chronic foreseen surrender
Chronic failure synonym
Chronic sel(f)-inlictednes(s)
Chronic found inner-piece(s)
Chronic forcibly sending love (&) (kisse(s))
Chronic we (f)ucking mi(s)s you
– Pascal Vine
breaking through the battering lashings of exhaustion and overwhelm,
a quiet, passionate voice buds within you.
it exasperatingly sprouts and presses and pouts, saying:
“we’re forever dogged!
it’s forever dusk!
our soul’s been over-tillaged!
you’re becoming but a husk!
we need a rest
we need a break please!
our brittle bones are steeped in ache.”
– – – ajae – – –