Your eyes are the soil around a depressed white root. Nematodes will eat you out of the bathroom mirror when you feel quiet and laboured and you want less nights. Work a fingertip into the dirt and tell me, what is alive? And you know it is everything. Even you. Just as there is always […]
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In this once-was of gardens and succulents behaving madly, who has the ability to call themselves delighted? I want to be variegated with leaves so new I’ll turn to deer and eat my own tenderness. In this difference of Sundays, I want to hear—a molten of gospel, among tuft-y grassesand yellow irises. All chanting in shapes […]
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Eleven, that’s all you’ll ever be.Dark-haired kid holding your face downin a pool, howling Don’t touch me, faggot.Sounds like Touch me, faggotin a world of burning water. Thirteen, eat a weak punch to the teeth, let himlick away the hurt, tell him you’re sorry you didn’t make it more believable.Mud gritting your mouth, pinned to the […]
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I’ve always known too much, bornadherent I entered the world with a shavingof my mother’s hippocampus curvingagainst my palm. I urge / I warn / I caution:it’s dying, it’s gasping for water.This is a family of burdened women. These bodies won’t make it to 30. This is the beginning of genealogy, of lineage, of a door with a […]
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The boy and I make nicebecause there’s too much sufferingand send messages through the flight patternsof migratory birdsand when his answers cawat my window I open it upand cut cloacas in my breaststo let thefat outand I tell him “I’ll get you your surgery somedayI promise”and he says “black feathers blue feathers south.” Noelle McManus […]
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(a poem made from my 2006 myspace blog post) Suzy is a writer from Arizona. She lives in Seattle. Her work is published in Rejection Letters, South Dakota Review, Variant Lit, Monkeybicycle, and others. She’s a recent graduate of Lindenwood University’s MFA program. She’s on Twitter @suzyeynon
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I have forgotten how to sing.At CVS, I impulse buy two bottlesof cherry syrup. Ten percent off,I tell my mother, who shrieksMy god, how sick are you,by which she meanshow dead have you become.The only thing I rememberfrom biology is how to checkif something is alive.I should poke this poem withthe Big Dipper’s handleand watch […]
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I dream of Einstein and lightning describe the splintered tree to you over text how I saw the blitz coming before anyone else You write to me about space about time that gravity affects how the days slip away like a whale pulling […]
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once I was a fawn dipped in holy water.the forest my haven. the trees my family.the flowers my communion. the mist myprayer circle. the creek my rosary. the leaves whispering a promise of heaven. but only if I grew to be the kind of doe the forest wanted. all speckled with beguile and tame and meek. the kind who […]
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35mm the next time i take you to my parents’ house it’s better we leave the catholics out of it and i am at least three quarters of a person mom cooks & cooks hot chicken wings & honey garlic my sister’s favourite a […]
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Nancy Huang grew up in America and China. She is a Sewanee, VONA, Tin House, Watering Hole, and Pink Door fellow. Her debut poetry collection, Favorite Daughter, is out by Write Bloody Publishing. Her poetry, plays, and prose are published by The Offing, Cosmonauts Avenue, poets.org, The Margins, and film distribution company A24. She has […]
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& the other night you held a tree outside my apartment & you said it was perhaps the most huggable tree ever & my phone said it was an apple tree but i didn’t see any apples & tonight i am holding the same tree & it really is a good tree & it is […]
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pause obsess rewind porn star Calvin Bankskneeling leaning back his hips bounce like a buoycaught in a tidal waveof cock muscle curls oh Calvinwhen you study your reflection do you worship the striationsin your chest? absthat cut & pushthrough the amniotic sac of your […]
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I’m just calling you to ask if you have ever scrunchedthe skin under your eyes and made wrinkles in the mirror and felt like you were seeing time? And when you let your eye skinfall back into place, was it like reversing time, like time travel, like being close to The impossible? I’m leaving you […]
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wai po falls sick in penang. through her cracked lips she still calls it pulau pinang,a palate bad-breathed, wu wei-harmonied to her language, the estuaries she carries in the seat of her spine pulau for island, for mooned blisters, volcano soresthere is a rhythm to dying bodies. when she bleeds, each scab sculpts a fragile […]
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In high summer, I see lovemost clearly when I’m alone. “Shouldn’t a poet be more romantic?”someone asks me. I ask my heartif it ever thinks of me. This morning, I had breakfast by myselfat the hotel and listened to the lobby pianist. Tourists arrive early to Black Tortoise Park andI thought I saw a couple […]
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I let my fingers lie on my bodylike my fingers are a sack of wooden stamps: delicate and foreign and someone else’s.I let my body lie under my fingers like my body is a field of tidepools:jagged, and damp, and a home to many things. I do this over and over: each objectbecoming another object. […]
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a pattern emerging not of need but desperation. nothing new, not even unknown. we dig up the truths just to bury them again. we endure the pain of looking until we have to look away. the pain of staying until we have to go. of being gone until we must return. endless, these cycles, these […]
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it’s 2019 so my New Year’s resolution is to only makedecisions on my period. in March it comes hard and fast, twice. all the bills still get paid, the countertopswiped down. i started eating again and now i can’t seem to rid myself of this hunger. i’ve decided i don’t want my life to be […]
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You remind me ofScene from the Great Flood (1826) by Joseph-Désiré CourtFour pairs of handsTerrified, alarmed, hystericalClutching, gasping, yearning No, not youI remind me of this paintingIn your presenceI become the hands Khushi holds a Bachelors in English literature from the University of Delhi, India, and iscurrently pursuing a Masters in Classics from Trinity College, […]
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I was abducted by cannibalsLast night in my dreamsThey didn’t eat me, per se, but after I had aMore holistic understanding of cannibalismIn my own damn kitchenSomeone made a joke about Armie HammerAnd I told them offSaid these are real people’s lives.It’s nice to feel like you know where the real people areOn my left […]
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Your brother’s pewter cross / hangs from your neck; / its dim glow / in the bittersweet light /casts a barrier between us. / In ‘Salem’s Lot they used / taped tongue depressors / to wardagainst / ravenous dead. / It seems that fragile now / the way / I’m afraid / to touch you, / […]
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after Tomaž Šalamun’s ‘History’ Tzy Jiun has breasts the size of grapefruits. Her hair curls wantonly. Thickdendrites grow out of heroverstuffed skull, mycorrhizallike the pregnantly moist soil of forests. She has a metal hook in her wombshe cannot stop talking about.Her wet kisses gush thirst,wet as the gills of a trout. She uses tampons instead of […]
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Ed has a stench that stings like cinnamon.And still here I am in the November stull,washing our laundry while they watch us. We all sit in on the floor and thread letters through colorful string,“Bitches” “Luv” “Toxic” one bead at I time. I made a few butonly kept the one that said “Howl”. Our pants […]
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Our neighbor upstairs had a party and someone yelled, “YESSS this is my jam!”, asAvril Lavigne’s “Sk8r Boi” came on. He started watching X-Files and we know exactly howmany episodes because we hear the theme song every time he plays one. He walked into our apartment thinking that he was walking into his apartment. All […]
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the track tonight, burnt asphalt and heat. the stands, rickety and fullwith ghosts of tomorrow’s morning spectators. you and me,faces pressed against the metal fence, squares of metal leaving grids on our hands. if you squint you can almost see the wall of champions,the carbon fibre smoking in the corner with its packof fellow rejects. […]
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Dia Roth (they/she) is a poet living and working in Seattle. Their poetry has appeared in Verse of April, Olney Magazine, TAB: The Journal of Poetry and Poetics, and elsewhere. Dia wishes they could spend all their time submerged in bodies of water, rivers and oceans in particular. Unfortunately, they haven’t yet managed to grow […]
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Megan Falley is in a word: sharp. Her poems have a sting to them that stays and her voice could silence a room. She is water running too hot in the best way. In addition to touring and teaching an online writing course called “Poems That Don’t Suck,” she is the author of three collections of […]
Read moreMom read x-rays for a living, but made a life kissing the bones of a 1932 row home always under construction Dad repairing with arthritic hands from the ground up
Read moreYou are a hitchhiker’s brainwash, a negative gasmask, a pair of waiting hands vacant everywhere You are a hoarder of ridges, a concave risk, heartsick and craving bludgeon exchange in a room of soundless piano keys, pushed in. Lonely carnivore, with a dirty forehead a mouth of murder. You beautiful handsaw, ripping my roots to […]
Read morebeing touched in a charged body by accident bounces bones enough to shed dead skin and leave flesh behind to finagle steady breath without a frame of mind barely attached to a torso dangling out of the car window even if hanging on means swallowing the one-winged mosquitos or pounding a steak until the vessels […]
Read more—– Christie West is a 20 yr old junior at Emerson College, where (she / they) created a major in Performance Poetry. She doesn’t care what your parents think of her tattoos. Her favorite things are: cats, bread, and women. Two she’s allergic to, one is out to get her. If she can’t change the […]
Read morehi you might like the way the moon looks will you go outside and see for yourself put the phone down first open the door then close it take however long you need to make up your mind if you don’t come back before time runs out i won’t blame you doesn’t it look like […]
Read moreyou kept my amethyst in your jacket / so I put a new piece of citrine in your palm / we sit at the bar & talk about cemeteries / tell me about your father again / talk about New York / that one time you were onstage dripping with blood & your best friend […]
Read more15 and she invited me to sleep over at her place minimal adult supervision hours one and two dedicated to mocking a children’s movie because we were not children she let me test drive her violin, first string instrument I ever touched, told me my instinct by way of heritage
Read moreIt’s the talons stabbed and spread through the nervous system that keep the mouse twitching and give it the performance of life. A boy reads the forest floor: A bouquet. A pitying. He reads the horizon: an unkindness.
Read moreParts of me are burning in dad’s ashtray. Tuffs of coiled hair engulfed in flame. Clink of hot-comb against stove. Crackle of fire against pomade. The house is smoky with the burning of my hair the flattening into submission the taming of the wild black the Saturday ritual.
Read morehe was my religion where no god could exist laid slain in his spirit each time his hands pray upon me words baptized in tongues tithed offered in remembrance of we
Read moreI was staring at a map when the men came, measuring the width of Calcutta with a thumb as they told me to stand and led me away. The blindfold smelt of cardamom and I remembered my mother’s shoe-size and the warmth of her body […]
Read moreI was all need you were out dog licking wound & ok/ so I’m destroyer all pressure pace move right through mouth & more do you swoon over Camus or coke & cum turn home melted ponder under slither fingers fighting fodder what kind of blood am I to you with war zipping hard underneath
Read moreI touch myself like a wound & my skin spits up its color like blood. It’s beautiful to feel darkness unattended in the body. To love the backs of our hands, to forget what will end us. I bruise the underside of my tongue
Read moreblack leather boots kick fine soil down from a cliff-side perch – disperses into an ill-coloured cloud, the way my brain feels.
Read moreThey tasted open to me. Her fingers tasted open as chopped lemons; me squeezing the juice into the cuts until she says stop, it’s okay. Fill me with you instead. And I say, awesome, I’m glad you’ve agreed. Time for me. Then all the smoke blows: I every destination of direction.
Read moreA white boy holds his hand like a gun. The earth bleeds out its rivers, I fist a flower. Don’t let them say genesis. Don’t let them say born again. Show me a hunger that names itself and I’ll show you my mouth,
Read moreAnxious Diva puts me up for ransom. I ask her why I can’t feel my body. She just wanted to smell the cake up close. Who can blame her? Herself orbitless, disappeared? Dress sagging below the knees. Miss Charity wearing a ski mask, no panties.
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VAGABOND CITY 