Browse Sections
Poetry
Puzzle Pieces
He places the misshapen square / in the hole of my face—how easy to complete, to mend us, to turn / what was missing into what is found.
July 2026Soup
At the restaurant with white linens / and candles in glass cups, I remember, / my grandfather sent back the soup.
July 2026The Eleventh Street Irregulars
After long afternoons restoring the decrepit boat, we watched trains / pass and deciphered riddles in bottle caps we twisted free / with empty hands and our ready, useless strength.
July 2026Because I became allergic to chocolate when I was seventeen
because a rash spread on my chest when I ate mole sauce at Sanborns; because acne populated my face every time I drank hot cocoa; because I believed it to be easy to give up something I loved
June 2026City Chickens
I never thought // I’d end up like this, domesticated as a pet lamb, / with a mate who worries our hundred-year-old house // needs new everything, shingles to foundation.
June 2026
Separation
There is a dead snake on the cracked road. My son says it’s not a dead snake. He says the snake has just shed its skin and left it there.
May 2026Boxer’s Fracture
My mother once put her fist / through drywall, nothing fractured // but that already-broken home, / a little more of her spirit and ours.
May 2026The Coast of Nowhere II
Sleet and black rain / pelting the eaves, the kind of predawn / that reaches through the window, hissing, / Your heart never was a bird let alone / a bright-red singing one.
April 2026
Moon Jellies
Some nights I dive into the sound / and let the waters have me. / I’ve felt the brush of a jelly arm— / they never really sting. It’s the glimpse / of that phantom-thing gliding beside me.
April 2026
Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
Subscribe Today