Spartan by Zeke Greenwald

In Annie’s apartment there is some stuffFrom which thin things she’s made decorAs if she didn’t just move in there,And life worked out for her before.  Luke rearranged the furnitureIn the room where he’s been living. He uses his space better nowThan he did in the beginning.  I invite you now, look at my room:There’s not much by way of showing.I’ve kept it sparse, not confidentThat … Continue reading Spartan by Zeke Greenwald

Breathed in helium… by Zeke Greenwald

Please do not be kind to me, I think that’d be best; I’m alone and unaccustomed To any easiness. I might cease to struggle forth; I might just lose heart; For I’m tense, and your tenderness Might take me apart. I’m inflated with long patience; I fear your kind relief Might strike the balloon Of my striving grief. I’ve been propelled, light and rigid, And … Continue reading Breathed in helium… by Zeke Greenwald

I called my grandma… by Zeke Greenwald

I called my grandma on the phone To ask about the news: Her neighborhood was down the lives Of some a dozen Jews. There’s a funeral today, and then Another one tomorrow; On Thursday they’ll still inter The victims of the sorrow. On Friday, Grandma goes once more To a funeral, Back in the day Shirley was Her neighbor after all. “Friday is really kind … Continue reading I called my grandma… by Zeke Greenwald

In Between Poetry & Fiction: Aaron Poochigan’s Mr. Either/Or by Zeke Greenwald

Aaron Poochigian, it is said, is the holder of many degrees, including one of those MFAs in Poetry and a Classics PhD. That being said, the genre of his debut employs the aforementioned acquirements in that it’s a verse novel combining elements of noir and mythology–you know, to put all that education and knowledge to good use. Poochigian is a very nice man, he can … Continue reading In Between Poetry & Fiction: Aaron Poochigan’s Mr. Either/Or by Zeke Greenwald

A Sense of Justice by Zeke Greenwald

A sense comes over me of what justice is, and it’s a kiss with two mismatched wetnesses; it’s a sympathy of two shards of vase by faulty glue to keep the tears contained. And though the mouth’s sloppy water might escape because the lip size difference is great we have stopped talking with a sign of pity: pity which makes justice in the living. Continue reading A Sense of Justice by Zeke Greenwald

Senator by Zeke Greenwald

I walk to bathroom like to Roman senate: shoulder-hung bath-towel toga-pendent. However bearded myself I suppose unlike Greek philosophers I bathe alone. And like whenever drip by drip a cold the hived compartment of your lungs controls with a concrete and swimmy occupation, and their walls have ruin in vibration, cough; and cough wrenches up the stony-melt and the rocks scratch up their conveyor belt; … Continue reading Senator by Zeke Greenwald

Curious about a friend by Zeke Greenwald

Award knowledge to me: I’m curious! Show! It strips you no-how for me seeing. Or if it did, was not woman the first to give up for genius her well-being? No sight could raze a towered nipple, nor bruise. I’m just keen-curious to see you nude. But in sight’s engraving what’s depicted there are whips that make scars’ puffy stain. By light-scratchings I’ll be self-afflicted … Continue reading Curious about a friend by Zeke Greenwald

“A View of My Roommate Views” by Zeke Greenwald

The backlit curtain hung behind your head, and there some seeping neon blurringly bled into purple and pink lightly designed, in the street, by a blue and purple shop sign; but what was more eye-catching was you; hair lit in its loops; sitting up in your bed; not a silhouette, less dark than the bedroom. Watching the Democrats’ National Debate on your phone, tired because you … Continue reading “A View of My Roommate Views” by Zeke Greenwald