CROWS a determined them sometimes on the branches of today you left remain now as a question in dark things WITH SUN crowd of companions stain the brightness a year since you chose to leave not quite a...
The air inside a leaf fist. Not October’s burnt romantics or tin aftermath of rain, haiku’s mist through trees, lone bonsai on hillside green— solitude’s calm is not the air I mean. When you feel mad at world which means mad at self, there’s no sweet...
Tiepolesque: is that a word? If not, it should be: all these clouds stacked up and shadowed blue, as if the gods had finally deigned to...
"Spots on the surface. A dampness somewhere nears us to sleep. We walk on another kind of nest for the body"
"We suffer till suffering blooms | and then the alleys turn"
A playful yet poignant poem from a dystopian future. In Dustin Luke Nelson's world, robots have replaced humans but live indistinguishably from their organic predecessors
The world of "Allegheny Cemetery Day in Winter" is compelling and haunting. A poem by David Blair.
Beautiful, pain-laced daily observations by poet Zach Savich during his battle with cancer.
Let the waves wash behind you and watch beautiful natural images as Kim Stafford reads aloud in this fusion of word, image, and tune:
Poetry, David Rivard says, comes from "some part of me that wants to be awake—and that I would like to have be as awake as possible."
The moment you fall for someone fully, body, mind and soul, knowing from the start you can’t have them, but letting yourself experience a shameless, all-consuming desire
In the split between two boulders behind the blue and orange playground, the children are building nests for when the hurricane comes