March 9th, 2010
Nicelle Davis
Nicelle Davis, Poetry
Mark Kerstetter
Flunking a breast exam
one week after womb removal
I get the call
that something’s showed up
and I go back to be
prodded, probed and sonographed.
continue reading this poem
When she knew you were in her,
she clawed off her skin and lay
We spill ourselves all over ourselves—our excess light
March 1st, 2010
William Taylor Jr.
Poetry, San Francisco, William Taylor Jr.
Mark Kerstetter
You, supplement to the endless series,
place this mirror up to your face:
Can you feel the steam of breath against your lips?
continue reading this poem
A nameless afternoon
in a small San Francisco
apartment
February 20th, 2010
Ernest Williamson III
Ernest Williamson III, Poetry
Mark Kerstetter
Van Helsing unfastened the coffin lid,
peeled the crucifix from the bone-white brow.
continue reading this poem
every day Sarah gave thanks
for the embalmed words
of her childhood