Drinking with the Russians

“Of course I couldn’t keep up with Anatoli/but that didn’t keep him from refilling my shot glass./In between the endless shots of vodka/I swallowed too many pieces of salted Black Sea fish.” A new poem by Dan Grossman.


Weeki Wachee

“*This position is physically demanding.*/*This position is NOT topless.*/*You must provide own tail.*” A new poem by Christina M. Rau.


A Few Lines Written in Westminster Abbey

“Up from he who once/said that the words of the dead are modified/in the guts of the living.” A new poem by Allison Rhodes.

May 18, 2016
Blond_mohawk_girl Blond_mohawk_girl

Two Poems by Andrew J Khaled Madigan

“Will take up very little space in your home./Good cook. Does own dishes. Will write you/sweet notes, at first. No recommendations.” From “Want Ad,” one of two new poems by Andrew J Khaled Madigan.

May 11, 2016
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NKS_1867_4to,_94r,_Odin NKS_1867_4to,_94r,_Odin

Two Poems by Scott Sherman

“These are the dreams I pretend we have,/not the ones where I’m walking down our street/at night, something crying in the woods/& I’m scared & you’re nowhere.” New poetry by Scott Sherman.

April 13, 2016
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Wawa_in_Wildwood,_New_Jersey Wawa_in_Wildwood,_New_Jersey

A Country Bumpkin’s First Week in Yankee Land

“All this pronto staccato they call talking/Has me wishing for closed captioning/So I can scroll through or follow /A bouncing ball to keep up.” A new poem by Abe Rexrode.

April 6, 2016
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Cat_with_mouse Cat_with_mouse

This Is for You, Master

“The cat drops a mouse at your feet/as if he figures that will please you./The poor creature’s neck is broken,/stomach split and oozing blood.” A new poem by John Greay.

March 30, 2016
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Nudists_at_Formentera_beach_0240 Nudists_at_Formentera_beach_0240


“As I drove home that night,/I was nearly certain we could, if nothing/more, save each other.” A new poem by Joshua Huber.

March 23, 2016
Written By:
Lurie_Garden,_Chicago,_Illinois,_Estados_Unidos,_2012-10-20,_DD_02 Lurie_Garden,_Chicago,_Illinois,_Estados_Unidos,_2012-10-20,_DD_02


:If I lived in Chicago, I wonder/if there would be a constant tug/from the locked stream/that runs through The Lurie Garden–” A new poem by Susan Fuchtman.

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