“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
: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.
: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.