Category: articles
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Art of Timothy F. Phillips
Timothy F. Phillips frames his vision of his artwork with bright foliage so his skies glimmer and his moons glow in and evening hue. In a careful analysis of Timothy’s paintings, one of the first things we notice is that his subjects are a little slanted or off tilt. For him, the words of Grandma…
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Bee
Nectar – extractionOf temple techniquePetals AjarHeathen spiral to theInner scarSoliciting leg-clotsOf soft bronzeEgg-yolkCloying sinnerSegmentedExoskeletonTiny breadwinner Featured Download: For a quick tutorial on how to write your own poetry so that it sings like Elizabeth Wing’s BEE, click here.
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The New Day Comes Quietly in the Apex of the Night
Out of The showerButtering the wetSkin With melon-scented lotion SoftSnow outside And the heaterOverworking The oldBlind woman Sticks her fingersIn my eyesAnd forgetWhat I was saying Roommate washing her underwearIn the sink This is theTime beforeThe earth cracks open Featured Download: For a quick tutorial on how to write your own poetry so that it…
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INDELIBLE
Evening: I loaded the soiled plates, playing the doting Queen or mother – ordering them into their places, but not until these fingers crossed the dirtiest one, writing my elaborate initials in script and ketchup momentarily. My mother ever watchful reached from behind to rinse the letters away. Morning: I emptied the clean plates, playing the fickle…
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Hope is a Thing with Cuts
Ask: When mother says wound / is it code for another one? / Say: I can’t even bring myself / to say the word. / I say injury. / Ask: Is wound the tear / that won’t ever really heal? / What’s missing now? Say: Another / piece. Another bandage / to cover over. /…
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Boxing Pikachu
I make a little blue star on my calendar for every day I write something creative. Creative counts as poetry, fiction, lyrical essays, and reviews of media I consume. I don’t count these posts or the writing I do for work. I have 19 blue stars on the calendar for January. Hallelujah for that. These…
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Walking Out
I sought you in the wind with a song in my hand, launching into darkness, the night’s drunk wildness. You wrapped around my lungs your silver words, your smile. I am breathing you in …
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SCIENCE AND SOCIAL STUDIES
Translated From Croatian by Mario Frömml The city park benches of Erie are the homes of the homeless. A wheelchair-bound guy, a vet, scrounges a cigarette off me. He then keeps thanking and blessing me, while cruising with a glimpse of scrutiny, of the cold, open seas. For two bucks, the vet’s selling a toy;…
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The Winter Wrinkles
I think, mother had a good plan of giving us the warm honey milk after morning prayer 2 hours before we would start the day the warm milk in my mouth and her gentle hand holding my neck over the years that milk turned into poison mother’s touch cut filled with anger the lust for…
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When the Elder Seam Maker Died
When the elder seam maker died, we picked raspberries, gathered Pinecones, fancied ourselves safe from the uneven happenstances, Those sorrowful “twists of fate” occurring regularly in our valley. On balance, stealing the man’s wares, his implements, brought no Aid to our hunts for sea turtles, finback whales, shore birds called “Red Knots;” his apparatuses abetted…
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Like a Dart Frog
The golden dart frog Has enough neurotoxins To kill ten grown men, Evolution starts With something Useful, Spiral luxuriously up, Out, Past the horizon Of the rational. Love’s like that. Perhaps once, There was just enough To drag the dripping mammoth flank Back to your pregnant sister in the…
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Winter Mad Libs
Writing in the morning, my brain is still blunted by sleep. I sit on my couch like an idiot, eating a muffin, my thoughts all in halves. We morning writers are supposed to be closer to our dreams, our minds still unwinding and better equipped for weird associative leaps like winter mad libs. I remain…