By Simran Singh -- Born into her mom’s arms, she has a bright future waiting for her. She begins to walk and everything begins. She runs...

By Adelle Sepulveda -- Days pass and I am still home There are voices in the next room, yet I am all alone Desolate, a disfigurement Too...

By Daisy Sanchez -- The sun collapsed, And the moon did too, When I saw my lover’s face at noon. Sorrow in her eyes Troubling to see,...

By Daisy Sanchez -- The air was stale, Your eyes were pale, On the metal table, you lay. You whimpered soft, A subtle cough, From your...

By Daisy Sanchez -- I ran, I left the world behind. Like specks of ash floating on by. The world was burning, I had to depart. For to...

By Daisy Sanchez -- Tap, tap, tap. On the table my pen goes Tap, tap, tap. “ Just one puff, ” says my brain “ Just one puff.” I know that...

By Sarah Das Gupta -- water polishes refines reduces to the essence the hand grasps a polished stone fine blue veins stretch across the...

By Sarah Das Gupta -- Here is a strange stillness, a breathless waiting.           And nothing moves In this deepest woodland, the green...

By Sarah Das Gupta -- The word roam  is itself a promise which embodies a leisurely freedom, a Will O’ the Wisp sort of dream, of...

By Catherine McGuire -- I watch bubbles swirl and pop; the dish soap’s tensile strength allows a bubble long(ish) life   to travel across...

By Corey Mesler -- Like food, like the hum of the tree as you approach:   these things mark us here, keep us connected to the   only...

By Corey Mesler -- Saskia has gone deaf. No more the call of the wild. It falls on stone. She can still sing, loud enough to disturb the...

By John Grey -- The cardinal’s done with its sweet clear whistles. The veery’s song descends into silence. The distant wit-wit-wit of the...

By Robert Beveridge -- We have placed a granite altar between the heavy cream and the Irish butter, basalt molcajete  atop it, tejolote...

By Jim Burns -- You balance on moonbeams, but if you trip in the night and find yourself in deadly flight consider all the wires you’ve...

By Jim Burns -- When I was young Death was old and due to its wisdom was in control. I was sick and didn’t care so Death grew bored and...

By Jim Burns -- You are standing by the window. A bank of clouds, sprawling gray and purple bruises on the sky, accepts the sacrifice of...

By Diane Webster -- Below the horizon the sun reaches up to touch the clouds once gray now brilliant orange and red sands splashing...

By Ed Higgins -- we all do it, of course but poets especially: like bareback bull riders bone-broken astride the arching back words buck,...

By Soeut Phal -- “I want your fiery flickering and scorching Dancing in the coals until ashes turns cold Arts components into heartfelt...