Keening nuns turn to boreal fiends on their tidal island, filing through blind arcades fighting nor’easters. Heading chapel wise their habits keep their foreheads cozy. But the altar has gone green. The girls drop their…
Browsing Category Poetry
Wat Nong Bua Yai
Before the State had built the dam and Mother River wet the ochre earth with her reckless kiss, our villages converged here like veins meeting at the heart or rice-grains gathering in the gut. My…
Venezia by Alex Lundy
at the first trace of blue I wandered the unpaths, finding myself thoroughly lost in a gray spritz of rain, …
REACTOR by Serena Solin
cars unable to a line not moving …
At the Corner of 6th and Pine by WLS
There, in someone’s front yard I saw a glass bowl, turned over on a hole, with a red-brown brick on top. In that airless chamber, a small swarm of desperate wasps swirled. I did nothing…