Flowers by Jenni B. Baker
_____lying for days
_____I become part of this garbage
taking out the garbage by B.J. Best
_____a trashcan is a swimming pool for ugly children
The Middle by Peter Kahn
_____Remember getting stuck
_____Dog me, my shadow
Departure by Pedro Poitevin
_____My bones still felt the wound
Boulder Sonnet, with Crickets and Buddha by Maureen Seaton
_____grinning with rabbit fever
I fell in love with the sky but that got boring by Gregory Sherl
_____Jenny says the robins are a good sign.
Married to Alabama by Ty Stumpf
_____Lightning bugs prick the darkness
_____Sing sugar, sing yourself a love song
_____Take for granted the way she stoops
_____I’ve also never been dead.
Ragged Point Road by Joe Wilkins
_____what a winter it had been
_____How long does a bird stay full?
_____at night the ocean sky opens
_____The most surprising way to enter a house uninvited
_____Know that something small can stir a revolution
A Beautiful Night for a Biscuit Truck by Anne Barngrover
_____gray disciples haloed in headlights
Letter to the South by Daniel DeVaughn
_____if we spoke in tongues, you never noticed
_____When/ birds fly, it’s the body dumping the soul
_____At the hospital your mind floats
Opinion Page by Anya Groner
_____Poetry isn’t dead. It just needs a haircut
_____I found you were not what you were
Considering Harper Lee during Sunday Mowing by John Davis Jr.
_____Doubtless Aunt Alexandra would have scowled
_____I wasn’t ready/for how light the body can be.
_____They say it is good luck to see you.
_____I am arm wrestling/an invisible man.
Corpse Pose by Kristen Kuczenski
_____Skin on the black lake cat-pawed, jellied, clear
_____In truth, she didn’t starve/to talk to God–
the Witch by Freya Gibbon
_____the Witch lives/in a televised serial
Québec by Boona Daroom
_____The concierge is the world’s worst concierge.
Ghosts Into Stones by Gary Carter
_____I turns ghosts into stone & stone into ghosts the old man told me in stuttering tongue
_____September sheds a calendar of unemployed leaves/along the plain’s open palm
_____the nervous animal of your shoulders bunching—
_____ We are unprotected
Palindrome by Nate Marshall
_____she uncuts/her hair, unchops it long and feminine.
Labor by Leah Huizar
_____Time grew rings in the soles of her/feet
When the Storms Come by Lisa Cihlar
_____those that curve in lovely shapes like little bent penises.
The Disagreement by Sarah Carson
_____God blinks hard twice and breathes deeply
_____The suspense of her arms/is a bridge
Litany by Lisa Hiton
_____Here, when I raise my arms,/I leave no shadow
We Kept Our Shadow by Christina McDaniel
_____He slams the shutters//upon the ghostly/cherry blossoms
Rag and Bone by Ashley Strosnider
_____what it might be like/to be devoured to be held between those fine jaws
Takeout, 2013 by Corey Ginsberg
_____I think this is a sign/that I’m already done with this year
_____I’m home in the body, but the body’s grown wrong
_____ Start there, in/the unforgiving middle
Salt by Jeff Oaks
_____And then taking the dog out to pee. And then looking up into the dash of stars.
A Bottle of River by Maureen Seaton and Samuel Ace
_____Or he//pedals away swarmed/and shoeless
Corn by Susan Comninos
_____Still, three lines drop/for the family scythe. First son. Open your hand.
They Do This by Kimberly Bruss
_____The hostas grow rapidly Their fronds unravel/like tongues under the stillborn sun.
The Return by Caleb Scott
_____Where now does the body/go
Parking Garage, California by Trey Jordan Harris
_____The mouth of hell is twisting/inside me
Aim by William Fargason
_____There was no target, at least not at first.
Dust Lords by Clay Cantrell
_____It had been six weeks since the wildfires/and already he’d stopped remembering.
_____Along the gutter’s underbelly, I spot/the transparent loaf of a shell split-open.
Rubies for Dorthea Lasky by Caroline Crew
_____There is red and there is grace/and I cannot fall into both.
_____ There is a man inside/the house, teaching/the living room how to burn.
_____ My skin stretches,/holding all these pieces in
If Only I’d Thought of It by Christopher Citro
_____ Did they sit around the dinner table/ taking turns saying: “It’s a nasty habit.”
Think of a House by Okla Elliott
_____ The father doesn’t drink, but he used to./The mother isn’t happy, but she was
Bystander’s Lament by Katy Miller
_____ I am a witness to the wars,/ a witness to the witnesses of wars,
On the Flood, Grown More Perilous by Brianna Noll
_____ We think/we want to feel/the sparks—/dive in and glow.
Everett by Ann Pelletier
_____ We come to the place where my son is/ and his name.
I Go Like This by Dara-Lyn Shrager
_____ Somebody with ill intentions/ has come to my door.
_____ Through the door broken open: smoke,/ honeysuckle, ashed-over daffodils.
_____I found you/ something dead, something/so full of potential
Honeysuckle Ghost in the First Baptist Church Back Pew by J. Scott Brownlee
_____I believe in this world,/and this town,/ and each face in it as you do God.
cincinnati by Alexander Chisum
_____she thinks about killing/ time. how 9:59 a.m. murders/ 9:58 a.m.
Never-Ending Birds by Sandra Marchetti
_____ I swallow, lift at my chest where the freckles/crack, where the wet wings gleam.
Little Exercise by Michael Marberry
_____ You cannot write/about the body because you worship the body.
My Drawling by Alice Bolin
_____ I used the brittle prairie colors/of our teenage July
Rick Santorum by Michael Meyerhofer
_____ Poetry has a personal objection to pornography,/ not to mention condoms
Super Tuesday by Nate Marshall
Resettlement by Jacob Newberry
_____sometimes I am dreaming/and when I am dreaming the goats are calling
_____On the porch,/ he lit the match/ and she held the letter still/ until the ashes broke.
The Hospital Room by George Moore
_____It’s better not simply to imagine/ the bleached walls as shorelines,/ the antiseptic smell of after-death,
Repeat Live Capture by Brad Clompus
_____ When you get/to the field by the river,/open the lid, expect/anything.
_____ The map is a hunger for dimension,/what meaning becomes becomes meaning
Pantoum from Wilson Pickett Interview by Harold Whit Williams
_____After mother knelt down & hollered for my soul/ She’d hit me with anything – skillets & stove wood -
Water-bearing by Ashley Keyser
_____ The broad bronze women need no one/now to save them, unremarked-on/as anything else aging in public spaces.
A Story We Might Follow by Joe Wilkins
_____ We shoe up and slip down drifts,/wend our slow way through oak/and heavy-headed sumac
Dendrochronology by John A. Nieves
_____They were mining for time, but time was not cooperating.
_____Kirsten strokes my hair and says,/maybe you were put on this earth for your mother
Jake by Jonathan Brown
_____ We all become dust, but some of us just enjoy being swept away.
Tropic Troping Bird by Stephen Massimilla
_____ Our regard for each other a series/of seconds raring/to stare and stare.
Strange Victory, Strange Defeat by Jeff Alessandrelli
_____ Invisible hands,/ invisible arms, invisible feet,/the snake rises up
Dowsing by Gwendolyn Jensen
_____Soft and slow, the water moves,/Comely, cool, it lingers
_____In these their last days alive, the workers bit at the remaining honeycomb, chewing it to soften it then spitting it out.
Dream of Adolescence by Leanne Chabalko
_____ In the field I find sick bottles and arrowheads/I see an elk rub antlers across a chokecherry tree
To a Girl by Rachel Marie Patterson
_____ In the end, what we were given/was not only violence.
_____We sort the last of our scraps into bins./ Potatoes that are not entirely rotten—/ we can’t take anything.
Venus De Milo by Christopher Ankney
_____She was vicious/ with inequalities
xylem/deployment by Amanda Bales
_____vascular bundles harden/ to a back yard pin oak
_____Ferns unfist when she passes, crows blacken/ above her
Blue Talk Bites by William Ford
_____In pain’s stark spot/ I blow a toy/ copy of Bird’s alto
To the Protestor at the Pride Parade by Andrew Kozma
_____Your idea of Heaven is a small nut no one can crack.
_____Once you were as empty as a wind-filled sail,/ but you’ll never fall asleep again. You are welcome.
Darlings by Jenny Lederer
_____At night/ they could hear their father/ murmuring to his trees, my darlings—
The Ash Trees at Midnight by Jacob Newberry
_____oh quiet earth/ you have welcomed me/ into your sodden arms
_____Let it be too-early light, your first/ memory, the dog lapping from the water bowl.
A Word for Berryman by Paul Allen
_____Dog tired, suisired, a thing so heavy–/ I doubt leapt, jumped, throw les mots juste/
_____for his worn doing.
Stray Dog Prayers by Ryan Smith
Rural Causality by Weston Cutter
Mandolin in White Wood, Inlay by Joshua Brown
_____With the double barrel breached/ amid the honeysuckle,/ his trigger finger cracks
The Sirens by Tyler Mills
Joe Cuomo, Local Weatherman, Tests The Old Idea Of Heaven by Sean Bishop
_____That the day before my father’s death// was National Skinny Dipping Day,/ Filet
_____Mignon Day, and Left Hander’s Day.
Litany by Rachael Lyon
_____She thought this place was haunted before/ his mouth snuffed voices into nothing, wet fingers/
_____on a burning wick.
_____Rind and yolk freefall, infuriating/ the gluttony of birds to brine
Black Witch Moth by Phillip Williams
Becoming Human II by Jade Benoit
_____Somehow, my hair stopped growing in patches.
_____When the starlings finish drinking from the gutters/ their bodies will be slightly heavier.
Getting It Right by Andrew Najberg
Early In The Day Of The Solar Eclipse, XII., and Before The World Went To Hell by Miriam Bird Greenberg ____Early in the day of the solar eclipse/ the old men who would still tell their names/ to soldiers passed ____time combing their beards
The Mummy Boycotts Easter by Patrick Whitfill
A voice from the country of my dreams by Landa wo
Lesson by Jenny Johnson
On Hunger by Elizabeth Wade
To the Heart by Ori Fienberg
Red Doors by Joe Bueter
____The smell some nights/ could’ve simply been the marsh./ Or crustaceans and bacon grease.
Therapy Dog by Phil Estes
Storm Windows (Imago) by John Nieves
____The air inside the air/ kept getting smaller
from Winter: aphorisms by Sarah Vap
____Someone cries every few minutes in our family
which pulling, pulling, he / begs you to take the tube
You Are Wanted in the Office by Naomi Shihab Nye
far from the man with a shovel wiping his brow
What Are You Supposed To Do Anyway? by Jack Ridl
I could take that at least two ways, / maybe more.
Even in the ordinary world of thread, / wood, and little souls, let us be two red canoes.
I have nightmares of a crowded lunchtime street, a gust / of wind lifting my new face away, like a silk tissue,
Photuris Lucicrescens by Lois Marie Harrod
In the loitering dusk / the lightening bugs begin / their dart and dwindle
Bildungsroman by Brittany Cavallaro
Her mother’s lips still the color / of the yew berries that could not / be eaten in threes
Salt Marshes by Janee Baugher
Miles of coarse white. / The blue-black sky behind him like an apology.
September 1st, 1923 by Fani Papageorgiou
on a hot, clear day in Tokyo,
Langston Blue by Jericho Brown
Blues for the angels kicked out / Of heaven. Blues for the angels / Who miss them still. Blues for / My people and whatever water / They know. O weary drinkers
The whole plantation would be called to sing / and dance in Master Epp’s large parlor room –
A Genesis Text for Larry Levis, Who Died Alone by Norman Dubie
we all stand / In a succession of etceteras
Four-Letter Word by Hugh Martin
Dying / is part of training / for war in Iraq. / We leave in two months.
My Future Therapist Asks About Rage by Cathy Linh Che
Men in my life walked in and out of the room, / tramping snow.
The Lone Ranger, Those Thrilling Days of Yesteryear by Jeannine Savard
He lived in a cabin on a frozen lake, / snake-sitting his sister’s taut “Baby-Boy” / while she waitressed the season in the Carribean.
Never mind that / the frogs are singing and / they sing like a swing-set.
Late Afternoon with Chagall by Michelle Peñaloza
leaves which unfurl / into women, brides, flying out over the marketplace, / over baskets of berries, beet bundles, green stalks of leeks—
A Little Less Kettledrum, Please by D. A. Powell
Hear me, up there in the bleachers? / I may be the least of all the piccolos.
a thousand drawers would open at once: / medicine, linen, jewelry, and secret-paper drawers, / impish smells emanating
Armando by Yaul Perez-Stable Husni
Yesterday, it was a caravan. / Today, it is by car.
November 21, 1937 by César Vallejo, translated by Amy Demas Grunder
My house, unhappily, is a house, / a floor, fortunately, where my beloved / little spoon lives, with its little inscription, / my dear skeleton, finally illiterate, / my penknife, the perpetual cigarette.
I thought of you pocketing / stones from the snow-rimmed beach, then piling them up all around your house. I / thought of when you stopped cold / as a gull snapped up into the sky, light on his underbelly— / look, you said, and I did.
What more / are porches made for if not for rain? I know if it / were honey and fell steady as it does now / to make sweet candy of the roads, we’d be out there.
I want to be your young wife / Thirty hours pregnant, / Neruda opened at my pelvis.
Elephant by Yaul Perez-Stable Husni
Elephant, Elephant! / Tell me again of the time / you climbed / up the Homa mountain,
We can nearly taste it. We can hear it rustle / as she moves, as she must, / eventually.