New & Featured

  • The Five Fingers of the Hand
    by Aloysius Bertrand: The thumb is this fat Flemish innkepper, mocking and saucy, who smokes by his door, beneath the sign of the double March beer.
  • Fragment from a Province Drawn in Dust
    “If there is water, it must come / from the skin. Mother, when // you spread our country across / the flat map of your hand” | by Malachi Black
  • Decked Out at Night
    “They stand apart in this world, / each one with his night, / each one with his death, / morose, bareheaded, hoarfrost-covered” | by Paul Celan
  • Psalm 24
    “How I love to lie down in this field—in myself: / myself in hiding, then disappearing.” | by Patrice de La Tour du Pin
  • The War Works Hard
    “The war works hard, day and night. / It is a muse for the tyrant’s / long speeches, / it hangs medals around generals, / it blesses poets with themes, / it makes the makers busy—” | by Dunya Mikhail
  • Summit
    “Because English is the lingua franca now, the term a laughable irony // we often overlook.” | by Brad Aaron Modlin
  • No Artist Paints Only One Portrait
    “What I mean is every shower / on this street has someone / singing or crying in it.” | by Brad Aaron Modlin
  • The Hole in the Church of My Heart
    “There are myths of intention circling skies / like vultures and parades of new madrigal” | by Alan Semerdjian
  • Prophecy of the Heartbeat
    “or the hours will drift sideways you’ll be / old in // Texas imbroglios of fire / tracing the objects in your kitchen” | by Chad Sweeney
  • The Futures
    “or three days from now you’ll get up // and cough and spit and push / the lever that sets birds loose from sleep” | by Chad Sweeney
  • Viscera
    “Our moms were widows before they met our fathers. / Their hair blue-black, their hands already chapped, caressed” | by Allison Adelle Hedge Coke
  • Veins (extracts) // Nervures (extraits)
    “a little like how a sentry in the night / paces to keep himself awake” | Selections from poet-artist Hamid Tibouchi’s Nervures in English and French.
  • Villanelles: ‘Putting a Question to Spring’
    “We only have copies, but they, too, stun / with the ever-out-of-reach, the waylaid poem” | by Jacqueline Osherow
  • After “The Day After My Father’s Death”
    “Explain quarantine to children, / says the headline. If they could / read, we could leave the truth / lying around for them” | by Dora Malech
  • Messages
    by Adrienne Rich: Dark blue shot with death rays but only a short distance
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