My doggy ate my essay. He picked up all my mail. He cleaned my dirty closet and dusted with his tail. He straightened out my posters and swept my wooden floor. My parents almost fainted when he fixed …
THEY COME
They Come BY HA JIN Sometimes when you’re walking in the street, returning home or leaving to see a friend, they come. They emerge from behind pillars and trees approaching you like a pack hounding a …
RITMO/RHYTHM
Mad has decided to catch a vulture, the biggest bird she can find. She is so determined, and so inventive, that by stringing together a rickety trap of ropes and sticks, she creates a puzzling structu…
HONEYMOON OVER
Is it still love or am I just used to it? The everyday grotesque is just fine. Content may mean good… But the crying, why is it, that I find it so easy to walk away By: H W Erellson…
A YEAR DOT
BY DG NANOUK OKPIK For Arthur Sze (Qin) Dim Sum equivalent to: dot, speck heart. Stone piled on stone I finish my meal. In this early sunrise I see shadows where a cairn of rocks used to stack in the …
INVICTUS
Invictus BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have…
AT THE WINDOW
At the Window The pine-trees bend to listen to the autumn wind as it mutters Something which sets the black poplars ashake with hysterical laughter; While slowly the house of day is closing its easter…
MEDITATION ON SPECTACLE: PART II
At its most negatively capable, poetry pinches your business, your situation, your significance, and supplants it with protoplasm, percussion, and clairvoyance. It rewires your thinking. You need this…
ELLEN WEST
Ellen West BY FRANK BIDART I love sweets,— heaven would be dying on a bed of vanilla ice cream … But my true self is thin, all profile and effortless gestures, the sort of blond elegant girl who…
POETRY
In the same way that the mindless diamond keeps one spark of the planet’s early fires trapped forever in its net of ice, it’s not love’s later heat that poetry holds, but the atom of…