by Louise Mathias
In the ocean of our bed(s) I am suddenly right.
All our mouths, (all of us), stuffed with lace. …
by Louise Mathias
In the ocean of our bed(s) I am suddenly right.
All our mouths, (all of us), stuffed with lace. …
by JP Reese
Jigsaw men smoke behind cinder block walls,
assemble the pieces of people they’ve been.
Second-hand voices seep under the door
of the coffee-cup room severing “Al” from “Anon”
—Pain extended from pain embraced. …
by Jeff Oaks
Of course the point is to be hidden, isn’t it?
To seem like nothing, to be forgettable,
to hold still. Lonely little things now,
the size of my fist and with a lid of snow. …
by Charles Harper Webb
A child kneels beside a “dead” bee.
(Stinging black-and-gold soldier,
where’s your buzzing bluster now?)
Jab!—boxing glove in the face, hard. …
by Kevin Hearle
in memory of Kevin Calegari, who died of
AIDS on February 12, 1995 in San Francisco
Romanum Pontificem in rebus fidei
et morum definiendis errare non posse …