:: Poetry archive ( 2000-2005, click for articles pre-2006)

Mystes published 04/01/2014

We strike, mallets in our hands
We sculpt entire continents
And see nothing of them.

We await the very order of the real
The apparent impossible signs
Of the Island silence
where we are reborn at the waters’ root.

By Matthieu Baumier.

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Assinaros & other poems published 21/12/2013

Students who heard that tragedy
Beside what may have been the river,
Conjectured what the author meant:
Guessed empire condignly punished,
Guessed no rebuke (all rule who can),
Or shelved grand themes and marked
A warning, so, should bad day come,
They’d stand clear while others drowned.

By Aaron Evan Baker.

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Signs published 14/12/2013

so

hen do pulls stag do pint / springs pension surprise
age no object happy scrutiny oceanic whitetips never verified
chance so negative chairman of the shock
cleared of harassing wife’s lover jumped on web
where everyone looks scruffy except generation xy

By Nathan Thompson.

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tea pleasures bodies published

she said not again
daddy du thon trop
cuit for the guest
tiny bed no heat
more younger women room
stiltswalker costumes chateaubriand
early edition found
listening to tiny bones
cracking cold china

By Kim Campanello.

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A Nexus of Phantoms published 29/11/2013

it is the example of phonograms
of lost and compacted lenses
turning
within a charismatic “Fall Line”
or an “isoneph”
or what an avian would announce in Greenland
as a “Katabatic Wind”

By Will Alexander

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Lenny Story published 27/11/2013

I was driving and I saw a TV
The dumpster diver inside of me
Arose from a long slumber
And compelled me to leap out of the car,
Screwdriver in hand.

By Ned Vizzini.

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truong in his living room & other poems published 22/11/2013

we were walking we could have
been in november instead of
june i could have been
a handsome doctor instead of

depends

sweating myself waterlogged i
could have been wheat noodle
lexicon or sweetened something
written on your hand

By Dusty Neu.

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Jen Nia Mondo & other poems published

seed held up to the light

oh how I love those little bones

when the women paint her hands with henna
they dip the brushes into lemon juice
to fix the pigment and no-one has eaten
since sun-up

the sheep gather nervously

By Rachel Sills.

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WYSIWYG & other poems published 12/11/2013

Service is full of moments

when children become cargo;
they are bundled and huddled

as the dunes of busted dishes
behind the china factory scroll by.

It’s a preview, really, only
orderless. Each city is seen

By Patrick Williams.

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Naked in Front of Strangers #6 published 31/10/2013

We’re hanging out again
in hundred year old spaces, dark
and stormy for me, bourbon
for him and a gracious young
waitress good at humoring the lecher’s grin.

By Kimberly Cooper Nichols.

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