The Photographer for Carol King She’s good at hiding, even in photos, her face behind a camera—but here she is a ghost, image that’s white
Word-whore By J.P. Sexton
Word-whore I write. What I really want much more, is to be a word-whore Not for me the gentle teasing on a page. You spend
I Am Your Mother (There Is No Mistake) By Gillian Thomas
I Am Your Mother (There Is No Mistake) Labor split me open, like an earthquake Gone, my old landscape and cave where I danced I
HIPPICUS, MARIAMNE AND PHAESAL By Mark Burgh
HIPPICUS, MARIAMNE AND PHAESAL Hippicus, Miriamne, and Phaesal, shaded me on clear sun days, sundailed the city. I drunk the hours; wine clear or blood
Leaving again By Fabrice Poussin
Leaving again They have made an eclectic line rainbow of confusing pastels near the strangely scented platforms. Randomly dressed in a lasting rush hair blowing
L’Angélus By Seth Wieck
L’Angélus For David, after Millet The air distends, diffusing light and sound. Our vespers announce on bellsong. Crows rise in timorous peal of wingflap, feather-
Grand Little Things 