Two Poems by Laura Eve Engel
In the opposite of woods, in the red ever, I am hungry and you are. // I used to have this job, the bodies entered all at once in… More
Mon cœur mis en trope #1
I haven’t yet begun to use metaphors. / It’s still raining. I don’t use metaphors. / My heart is black and quiet. / My heart has not yet begun… More
The PEN Ten with Stephen Graham Jones
Stephen Graham Jones is many things, among them an incredible writer and story teller, as well as a Blackfeet Indian. The momentum of his prose drags you through the… More
Conditions
ninety thousand children crossing the border in the last three years what thirst what listening what refuge what desert harbor what desert keeps at bay what keens what dims… More
Four Poems by Lily Clifford
Uncomfortable in a hospital gown, fallow. The thing I’m praising is wretchedness. It gets easier, as easy as a slur. The tongue root and the doctor’s late, blinking the… More
Three Strikes
I dropped from the skies or from heaven—whatever was closer at the moment—at the doors of the Kremlin library to research, and the clerk, an army major with a… More
from The Sissies
A cop knelt and kissed the feet of a priest, / and I threw up at the sight of that. // My only security has been to garden civility… More
The PEN Ten with Shawn Vestal
"I can’t remember not wanting to be a writer. As a child I would write creative notes to my parents, and in school at an early age I would… More
Toward the Great Unity
I was young, always returning to the municipal building, / where an iron lamp hung, a flickering vestige of history. / And when I moved my belongings in with… More
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