PoRiverthat’s the name yoain’t none of yo businesswhat went downor underin that riverdark navyslick sucked you ingot stuck thereday after dayjoint after joint We had nowhere else to gobut PoRiver–been a meeting place for a hundred yearsthey said it’s named after Edgar Allen Poe’cause some boy was serenading a girl rightat this very spotat the river’s edge where the wackaweeds tangle and knotdon’t know what … Continue reading Po by Donna Dallas
SomewhereHarvey Weinstein is rottingin a cell, feeling sorryfor himself and blaming womenfor all the troublehis pecker and pride has caused.Epstein’s dead and rotting too.But what about the movie starsand mega-rich who keep makingfilms and money, who knew catswere being kept in gilded cagesand tortured for their skin—this fraternity of bystanders,the Cains who insist they are nottheir brother’s keeper. What about David, the IsraeliteKing, who commanded … Continue reading #MeToo by Marissa Glover
Believe his stories of the past,the graves dug with eagershovels, filled to the brimwith bones. Don’t thinkof fairy tales, the motherlessgirls who marry a princeand live happily. Leave himin his reluctance. Let himstay buried in anger. RememberMera, Queen of Xebel,who spends an entire movietrying to convince Aquamanhe has what it takes to be a hero.And Daenerys, Mother of Dragons,rightful Targaryen Queen,who loses her throne—andher life, … Continue reading When He Tells You He’s a Bastard, Believe Him by Marissa Glover
Charging, into open panes of steel air, I lead forward. Fumes of lavender hint against newborn grasses. Heavenly guided by dual forces, my words detangle flowers and weeds. By nightfall my zodiacs travel spaces & reflect midday spools of shadows. For the first time, I feel fine in loneliness. Continue reading bone polish by Nikoletta Nousiopoulos
me and the swords / stood pillaring in the swamp a horde of deadly sharps /& a barefoot walk / could not free any bondage / these ties are voluntary / to be a hero to be a martyr / reflected off every blade / this is my initiation / not my prison / not my coming out of hiding I look like myself when … Continue reading ceremony for an opium eater by Nikoletta Nousiopoulos
the difference between seeing these mountains as sceneryand making the attempt to know them,know one, or one trail well, anyway.Scenery is a backdrop for you, for your life,it is something to comment onand then discuss what is for dinner.And I don’t know these mountains.I live here. My life has taken place mostly here,it is knowledge not as information,but knowledge the way you know your cousin,or … Continue reading All Learning is Remembering, by Maria Berardi
In the wake of Johnny Depp’s recent–and highly rife with embarrassing details–trial and verdict, one can’t help but chart a similar trajectory toward an inevitable downfall that occurred during another famed libel case in Britain: that between Oscar Wilde and the Marquess of Queensberry. Better known as the father of Lord Alfred Douglas, Wilde’s clandestine lover. And Alfred Douglas should perhaps be better known as … Continue reading Johnny Depp and Oscar Wilde: “Libel” to Lose Against British Courts
Even someone as “harmless” and carefreely narcissistic as Eve Babitz might not have made it in today’s literary scene. As her resurgence reached a crescendo in 2018, with Emma Roberts touting Sex and Rage as her book club choice (oy vey) for the summer of ’17 and Counterpoint re-issuing a lesser known work called Black Swans the year after, on the heels of the rediscovered … Continue reading Eve Babitz and the Trouble With Taquitos
the wild monk sports the green nike altitude bootsthis is the brain to boggle bracket yoke was a line in the skythe fast cars of the earth I could go back and win the luckiesthis is the machine when we let go of the worldwhat do we get but the nothing collectible figures like methe clapping lobsters friendship levelsunderstanding the egg try the louder facesoft … Continue reading loud eggs to get you the gotcha jump by J.D. Nelson
One of my favorite booksIs Anne Sexton’sThe Awful Rowing Toward God. In the last poemShe plays a game of cardsWith GodAnd loses. Not too longAfter finishing that bookShe went to her garageStarted up her carAnd drove to HeavenPerhaps to challenge GodTo a rematch. Continue reading Going Home by Ron Kolm
