April 11, 2020 |
T206
T.J. Larkey
At first I thought he meant food, but he never asked what I wanted.
April 10, 2020 | Poetry
THIS WEEK IN BASEBALL: CHATTER
Mike Andrelczyk
Eighty-five percent of the Earth’s surface is tarp
April 8, 2020 | Poetry
I Don’t Like Baseball, Just the Red Sox
Abbie Kiefer
In Maine his whole life except the year there wasn’t work.
The Boys in Summer
Kent Jacobson
“How ‘bout it, Ronnie. Throw something Butch can hit. Try over the plate for once.”
Dispatches from the Treehouse: The Long Season
Joseph Horton
And by the third inning, it’s really, truly, shittily finished. “They gave us about twenty minutes of thinking we were in it,” Tim says. “Twenty minutes.”
Common Ancestor: An Interview with Jenny Irish
Jenny Irish and I sat down to discuss her stunning debut, Common Ancestor, with Black Lawrence Press. Her prose poem, "A Brief History of Motivations" was published on our site in
Cleaning House
Jayne Pugh
He blew smoke from a loaned cigarette back into my hair, bar rag still in his back pocket from the shift that ended two hours ago. He didn’t understand why I didn’t want him to come over. “Surrender to the stuff, baby.”
Dear Amma / Mai / Ma / Aayi / the tune of my breath in anguish
Meher Manda
Even if it is addressed to you, this is a letter for me. If it were truly a letter for you, it would be written in sound, in the words that lilt on your tongue, rise a tempest in your rage,
Utopia Study
Anderson Peguero II
The "UTOPIA STUDY" series is a form of experimental architectural photography that focuses on modern architecture in a number of American cities. Buildings and details within them are transformed into
A Bigger Splash
Jordan Floyd
I could have no path, no idea of what I should be or how I should live. I could skate through neighborhoods, where I wouldn’t find a Mormon church or anyone who knew I had strayed from the path I was raised to follow
Elegy for Bubblegum
Zakiya Cowan
My father inhales smoke from a lone Marlboro,
shadowed against a sun colored like dead autumn leaves.
He gently cradles the barrel of tobacco between his pointer
&
Last Thing
Jeremy Glazer
The funeral is over, Eliza is back at work, and she has eaten dinner at home three times now, once alone, even.
Five Poems
Chen Chen
A Queer Translates Rilke
I long to know his self-described “epic head”
with my eyes closed. But for now, his torso
radiates from my screen like a delirious
lighthouse, like it is recharging my
Darlington County
William Walsh
Patience is one virtue that me and Wayne both got in spades.
Flesh of My Flesh
Laura Lampton Scott
The king’s first wife went crazy and no longer obeyed him, so he sent her away.
3 Poems
Mike Andrelczyk
Since You Left I Have Spent My Days Staring Blankly at the Beer Sign in the Bar From the Time it Opens Until Closing Time
Neon
Neoff
Boredom
My First Sexy Halloween
Lindsey Wente
I walked through the senior hallway, heart beating fast. The boys’ stares burned into my skin as they whispered things to each other.
A Slim Sexuality
Chelsey Clammer
In my head, dating women was a body competition.
After the Heat
Paige Towers
Because let’s face it, boiled tea does not meet my privileged standards for heat.
A Girl Cawed
Rachel Ranie Taube
“If you have to say you’re fine, you’re probably not,” the crow replied.
Tymbal
Colleen Mayo
I remember being young and small and barefoot on the concrete floor: look closely and see how the cicada shells vibrate as the Texas Hill Country winds sift in.
Death Packet
Rachel Chenven Powers
Lenore was at the cusp. I’m cusping, Percy, she rasped. Percy was unsure what to do about it. Press forward? Hang back?




