Poetry
by Anonymous
We walk along the pavement hip to hip
We see you coming, your stride so wide. . .
by Claire Waldrop
Blood. Guts. Gore. Crazy Bitches.
Staring at a man, who’s staring at me. . .
by David Wanczyk
Arthritic spaniel,
fog-eyed, lifts
his white face. . .
by Eleni Polinska
I have loved before, yes,
but never as burning. . .
by Ceci
I stick my finger that people compliment on its skinniness into
The hole of my scarf. . .
by Sloan
it seems unfair
pick one thing at eighteen. . .
by Michelle Myers
And I wonder, when did we cease to be a People?
At what point does conscience collapse so that we fail to re-member ourselves. . .
by Michelle Myers
Then maybe I’ll catch your hand tryna hitch a ride
as I drive on by to leave their lies behind. . .
by Wybie Santiny
I don’t want to become a star i want my flesh and my guts to stain
these constellations. i want to throw up. . .
by Wybie Santiny
a thousand of them, fragile origami creatures
clogging up my throat with paper cuts. . .
by Wybie Santiny
within the browning flesh, eve’s rib split into
a row of children’s teeth. . .
by Olivia Cobb
the outer walls of the houses
plastered against tentacles. . .
by Olivia Cobb
On the Wall of Keith Lamar’s prison cell
there hangs a picture of Miles Davis. . .
by Olivia Cobb
listening to the pretend attorneys, the room laughing
as they debate, “allegedly”– tear the heart apart. . .
by Olivia Cobb
Did the air smell like
flesh or gasoline. . .
by Olivia Cobb
I put her down on the highest part of the tiled ground
and hope that it’s enough. . .