by Mary Christine Delea Crow says dove, legs say shine. They argue all day, flight and the fine motion of walking. …
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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ CategoryOctober 11th, 2010 
He is looking for the top 40 tunes from fifteen years ago. There is nothing … September 6th, 2010 
by Anne Babson PCBs on the Muddy bed of the Hudson Lift out. The shad feed. … September 6th, 2010
by Anastasia Andersen Numbers are useless for the angles that bang around the brain … August 1st, 2010 by Christine Herzer lying, for example in the context of bottles is a symptom of the disease in the context of a relationship it can drive you mad … August 1st, 2010 
See him! Sing for him! He knows which leg goes first and which legs follow! … July 5th, 2010 
by Lisa Marie Basile There were no real men here, no one that could make a little soft claret cup bloom, no one that could take a little coffin varnish without feeling like he needs to shoot a man. … June 7th, 2010 
by Britt Gambino 13 Ways of Living Without You (1) I traveled and fucked around the world, with every ethnicity, every cup size. … June 7th, 2010
by Megan Norman I’m well accustomed to picking the eyes of dolls. It seems. The thread is so tempting. Even though it’s often a mess underneath my fingernails, that are so rotten. There are these gold dolls formed from an angelic mold. Sometimes I glue on black black wings. From dead crows. … June 7th, 2010
by Russell Jaffe Now look: everyone took turns to talk, there are black braches, the birch bark tears quickly a______like an envelope It isn’t a lying, shirtless night, and there aren’t crickets it’s cold the surf melodies a scatter in leaves a_____dead ladybugs salt the sand. There’s sand in my dinner and the salt tastes like a dead ocean. _ … |
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