“The moth doesn’t hear him, flies right back to the dads’ flamethrowers and you can’t stop it, can’t stop anything. To the moth all fire is sun.”
FICTION | NONFICTION | POETRY
SUBMIT STORE DONATE OPPORTUNITIES INTERVIEWS WRITERS WE PUBLISH
Our latest issue, "Crossings" is available now
All tagged poem
“The moth doesn’t hear him, flies right back to the dads’ flamethrowers and you can’t stop it, can’t stop anything. To the moth all fire is sun.”
“under house lights you move / through hallways backstage like it’s a sin / to inhabit your own skin”
“I am a God fearing man / depending on who asks / But between you and me / God does not exist”
“lingering mysteries I knew / I would never know: a boy who / drank rivers…”
“The wildlife / rescue continues to tell me who / survives, who passes.”
“they thought a ballistic missile / would drop. First, the realization: / no shelter, no basements
“Not everyone can tolerate at the speed of light”
“the straight shot / the long shot / the parting shot / indiscriminate in the dark…”
“…Nothing prospered across the land / Until she came out of her trance.”
“I wonder what violence will / find me today. A deer’s teeth.”
“easy to find the tension in the root. / The give. The take.”
“You fooled me. Your ability to / thrive without needing…”
“I've come to learn: Packages / and bad news arrive regardless”
“under tables with green fire. / we are thinking / who's the child”
“I just want to tear away everything / that is irrelevant, and love you like a broken lever”
“One of us remembers the honeyed ink / in the waiting womb…”
“for her daughters to release her / into the river of her choosing”
“Growing humidity is concealed behind a trapdoor of secrets.”
