Poetry

“Une Nuit Trop Claire”

By Christophe Condello
1. / Une nuit trop claire, / Mes yeux seront crevés. / Violemment, / Des fleurs jalonnent l’ombre. /   / 2. / Les fleurs se courbent vers le soir. / Je...

Number 3

By Duncan Mercredi
my noosim (grandson) asks / how do you say horse / mistatim / dog / atim / bird / pinaysis / wolf / maheecan / moon / I don’t know / my...

Number 4

By Duncan Mercredi
am I still cree / or am I too fading / like the language / lost in translation /

untitled

By Patrick O'Connell
They used to call me Lord of the Flies / I wore all this flypaper wrapped around my head / shot pool backwards / and rode a gilded swan across a brook...

for bert r

By Patrick O'Connell
I was pretty sick of the whole thing / so I walked out onto the Midtown Bridge / and jumped / but I hadn’t walked out on the bridge / far enough...

untitled

By Patrick O'Connell
I never accomplished much in life except a sun tan /   / Oh yea a sun tan / laying there on the grass with my fan / my King Can /...

old greek men on bicycles

By Tim Bowling
That town, that time, was full of them. / Skullcapped, gumbooted, flowers & fishtails / sticking up from handlebar baskets of wicker, / a slow-motion stand-up-fall-forward pedalling in one low gear /...

sidewalks in early spring

By Tim Bowling
Along the long cave walls of the city /   / the children chalk their days /   / as I chalked mine in another city, /   / other days. The...

not quite winter

By Chris Hutchinson
November. The sky is missing: / a stolen monument, a breach. Still, / a few starlings litter the horizon: distant / flickerings, variegated shades of ash. Meanwhile, /   / a cross-hatched...