Poetry “I Am No White Dress” by Kelly Grace Thomas

"In the dimly lit diner, he sipped his coffee and said: pass the hospital. On the table, funerals sat dirty on plates. I looked into his empty playground and only heard grass stains, or monkey bars All the slides were dressed in black…” Read the rest of the poem at deComp.

​​#Poetry Wed: “肉骨茶 (Meat Bone Tea)” BY S. Qiouyi L

“Star anise floats in the night–sea of meat bone tea, backed by the cloud–flower shapes of lingusticum. Astragalus, codonopsis, and licorice lashed into a raft drift among goji berries swimming like vermillion carp… Astragalus, codonopsis, and licorice lashed into a raft drift among goji berries swimming like vermillion carp… …the raft touches the riverbank. Broth... Continue Reading →

Poetry: “About Suffering” by David Lucas

“Icarus is not for us. He flies and falls, that’s all. He doesn’t joke to hide his fear, or seem ashamed… He’s young and proud. He likes the sound of his own voice. Of course the world must break and scatter him among the falling birds. It’s never him. His father, Daedalus— he’s our muse,... Continue Reading →

Poetry “Courses” by Mariama Lockington

​”what table set of your bone what silver what flesh dream of your throat what melting what flavor cumin currant coconut your clavicle mantle for my mandible what wishbone split cracked and tasted rooms and rooms of your marrow​…” ​​Read the rest of the poem at Washington Square Review.​

Poetry “Holiday Song” by Danielle Weeks

“Now the lights coiled white in dogwood trees, now the graying father at the door, now the wooden angels on the walls. Now the suitcase in the childhood room, now the glow stars dead on the ceiling, now the dog that barks at nothing. Now the forsythia shedding its opposite leaves, now the sky lifting... Continue Reading →

Susan Swartwout:Odd Beauty, Strange Fruit (Poetry)

Susan Swartwout’s exquisite poetry collection, Odd Beauty, Strange Fruit, captures, under dirty mason jar glass, a visceral, grotesque, and, at times, beautifully demented circus of Southern Gothic aesthetics. “When our eyes have opened to shadows in mote-thick air of the circus tent, when old men’s droning of what circus once was and mothers’ sibilant scolding to... Continue Reading →

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