Catherine Fletcher ~ Four Poems

Laws of Gravity

I toss an apple in the air to ensure grav­i­ty is still pulling,
ignor­ing that you told me apples are forbidden.

The roots of my garden’s trees grow toward Earth’s center.
Four times a day, tides ebb and swell.

The neigh­bors still groom their fine –more

Dan Crawley ~ Uncle Sam

Most of us crowd in Uncle Sam’s small house. He screams we’re evil, look­ing to do him harm. He kicks, swings at the air. Some of my lit­tle cousins race from the bed­rooms to the liv­ing room to the kitchen and loop back again. My mom and Aunt Carrie –more

Shome Dasgupta ~ A Kolkata Dream

Consider a sin­gle cloud—angry and scowl­ing, drift­ing away and bob­bing up and down, almost like it’s in the ocean try­ing to reach the hori­zon, and how dark and mad­dened, by itself amid plains of skies, giv­ing home to avian flocks who pierce through –more

Casey Killingsworth ~ Five Poems

Me and Milton Friedman

There is some­thing more to lot­ter­ies than chance.
For once we’re all qui­et and even equal, each one of us
hold­ing our small receipt of democ­ra­cy, expect­ing with
mag­nan­i­mous faces our num­ber to be called.

Except it’s not, not equal. When I took a –more

Kip Knott ~ Three Poems

Hinterland: A Golden Shovel

Now I am qui­et­ly wait­ing for
the cat­a­stro­phe of my personality
to seem beau­ti­ful again,
and inter­est­ing, and modern.
— Frank O’Hara, “Mayakovsky”


After months of iso­la­tion, I won­der who it is I see now
when, at the win­dow, I
stare –more

Aaron Angello ~ Four Poems


Patterns of silence in pri­vate, sup­pressed whelps, dead air. A woman curled into a ball at the top of the stairs, weep­ing, apoplec­tic. A few months ear­li­er, there were two para­keets that freely flew through every room in the house. This isn’t a metaphor –more

Christopher Allen ~ Missing Person

I’ve joined the work­force for three rea­sons: 1) the new min­is­ter of music at church is giv­ing voice lessons for $8 a pop, 2) Mama and Daddy don’t have the mon­ey, and 3) free cookies.

I start on prep because I’m “too scrawny to work the counter.” –more

Richard Leise ~ Jennifer

Jennifer did not go by Jen, and she cer­tain­ly did not answer to Jenny.  Her name was like her face, a sen­si­ble orga­ni­za­tion of set, or fixed, shapes.  Her name was not a hair­cut, a style, some part of her­self that, for wed­ding or whim, could be cut, –more

Joe Kapitan ~ Four Occasions


I was going to have Michelangelo’s bake you a huge cas­sa­ta birth­day cake with mul­ti­ple tiers, and hol­lowed out in the mid­dle so I could jump out and sur­prise you, but then I asked myself—am I what you would choose to have pop out of a cake? Might –more