Eric Anderson

‘Wanting to get it all in, like / Xerxes tipping his army’s arrows / with saltpeter / so to ignite the Grecian sky.’

Ghassan Zaqtan

‘Nothing’s left to say between us / everything went / into the train that hid its whistle.’

Mary Ruefle

‘Those flowers belong to the dead.’

Issue 125

Ange Mlinko

‘I think of this when raising my eyes / to a filigreed cross in a sanctuary‘’

Issue 125

Christopher DeWeese

‘When the oxygen thins, / the world gets less reciprocal.’

Issue 125

Rowan Ricardo Phillips

‘It looks like life, or its oasis.’

Issue 124

Ellen Bryant Voigt

Saïd Sayrafiezadeh

‘my apartment is neither over / nor under the sidewalk, / but both at once’

Jean-Paul de Dadelsen

‘Or otherwise, leaving the shore of the intermediate sea, / has it been a while since they’ve gone ahead / into the interior of lands of the spirit?’

Michael Dickman

‘A cloudless sky and I’m back / an ice-cold sky-blue rag / for my eyes’

John Balaban

‘Her mother planted a garden in Manhattan. / In that garden is a tree. Some look on it and feel restored. / Others, when the wind lifts its leaves, want to scream.’

Issue 124

Rachael Boast

Joe Wenderoth

‘At first you treat him as a nobility – / a miraculous figure(head) / with no real office. / Then he dies.’

Charles Simic

‘Could they be the same person?’