Everything is Changing
Tags/ Posted by Simon KartarKeys rattle on the way down to join the coffee grounds, guts and trash for the haruspex.continue reading this poem
When we found the car it was parked against a tree, a horse chestnut. I let go of my girlfriend’s hand and walked around it. Amazingly there was not a scratch anywhere.
Fulfilled
Tags/ Posted by Lethe BasharIt was good to wake this morning, knowing nothing except there was a river, lacquered blue, streaked with light,continue reading this poem
Anton and I grew up in a small periwinkle house with the highest house number in America. It was official. In the record books. Men with hats and cameras would come periodically to take our photograph in front of it and ask us what it was like living there, having to address letters and so forth. My father was a prissy man with lacquered fingernails.
The Poet Washes Dishes
Tags/ Posted by Jonathan EverittWe spill ourselves all over ourselves—our excess lightcontinue reading this poem
It took several hours. There were spaces in the cookware of which no one was aware, save the poet. The soft downturn of the ladle handle soared and fell like the epic point guard’s final jump-shot as the seconds die away . . . Water turned from periods to semi-colons and, finally, ellipses.
The Ballad of Sheila and David
Tags/ Posted by Jonathan Everittkiss me like a cab driver all fury and fumes consider the meter its hard click we've crossed into another borough all heart-stoppedcontinue reading this poem
The afterthought of David was more powerful than the presence of David. What Sheila was trying to say was that after he moved the last of his things out of the apartment — the boxer shorts and shaving cream, the rye bread and loose change — she kept wondering when he’d be back.
