“To a Distant Lover,” by Thomas Cavazos

Aug 20th, 2016 | By

These winter nights know not your gentle touch,
Your fingers running wild against your skin.
My darling, this I ask (think it not much:)
To be your partner, privy to your sin.

Two Poems by Matt Dennison

Apr 20th, 2016 | By

Onion Never buy a single onion if you live alone. For unless you are greatly skilled in the art of onion management, at some point you will end up with less than half an onion on a little plate on the middle shelf of a nearly-empty fridge, it’s pitiful, withered, stem looking like the sliced-off

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“Yours in undead desperation (a zombie soliloquy),” by Anna Della Zazzera

Apr 20th, 2016 | By

I’ve started to keep a Food and Feelings Journal,
but it just ends up sounding like the lamest brand of forced narrative.
Like Chicken Soup for the Mystically Reanimated Soul,
or that recurring dream I have where I’m the host of
a low-budget, zombie-themed daytime talk show,

“Food Policy,” by Bob Schildgen

Apr 20th, 2016 | By

The cigar is chewed to nothing,
there’s earwigs on the brie,
but the dumpster’s flowin’ over
and there’s plenty here for free.

“Debating the Draft,” by Maria Bonsanti

Apr 20th, 2016 | By

I have this need
to sometimes rhyme
my words, my phrases
give them time

“Tragedy,” by A.J. Huffman

Dec 20th, 2015 | By

Vexing fact of reality, fateless truth:
flea markets do not sell fleas.

“Contemporary Shepherd Seeking GF,” by Nicholas L. Sweeney

Dec 20th, 2015 | By

Come message me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of hash and tag and smiley face,
The punctuation masquerade.

“Calavera for Skeletor,” by Sarah Frances Moran

Dec 20th, 2015 | By

That motherfucker He-man finally got to him.
Broke his spirit.

Two Poems by Sarah J. Campbell

Dec 20th, 2015 | By

You used to believe in things:
Santa Claus,
the Tooth Fairy,
life after love,
little people who lived in your TV and waited for you to turn it on so they could entertain you.
You believed that somehow you had been born without your parents having sex
(because who wants to think about that?).

“V Past II at Mussolini’s,” by Connor Harrison

Aug 20th, 2015 | By

That cat is looking
at me funny, I’ve seen it
talking to the cook, licking
its sly little claws