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Martinus Young, I had a crush on you when I was five.

“A quotidian damage. Consolidating into a tiny scar; a crescent moon./Now, that’s the only trace I have left of you, Martinus Young.”

by Mariachiara Ficarelli on April 29, 2018April 29, 2018

With Piano

It’s the little things you remember when you die. The children. The moments. Your face after achieving multiple simultaneous orgasms. The orgasms. The presidential campaigns, the incipient volcano underlying the western half of the continental U.S. It’s the little things … Read More

by Conor Gannon on October 1, 2009March 17, 2013

No Direct Speech Allowed

The case for Anne Carson’s _Nox_ might begin with its box (that’s not binding): grey with white binding (that’s not binding) and a single silver sliver, in which stands a boy diver on grass maybe forty summers ago, wearing superhero … Read More

by Conor Gannon on September 22, 2010March 17, 2013

Eliot in Love

“Despite being intended to clear his name, the response instead came off as spiteful and cruel. It did little to save his reputation, especially since his letters tell another story.”

by Mina Quesen on April 12, 2020June 30, 2020

Sure

“I’ll take any reason, / absurd to God, for something new. / That’s why I stood up, no doubt— for a little color.”

by Andrew Zacks on September 27, 2020September 27, 2020

Sprinkles

The construction guys are wearing neon hoodies and eating grilled cheese sandwiches, Sprinkled across the lawn like lobster buoys — “Confetti thrown from heaven,” you’d call them When I was on the boat and couldn’t sleep. If I went back … Read More

by Anonymous on April 24, 2016

Masochism and a Self.

Embrace the mutilation

by Zaynab Zaman on December 11, 2016

Dushi Kòrsou (Sweet Curaçao)

“Sand flew as troupials in the far / field / While the bells of the time had not / spoken”

by Daniel Bracho on March 10, 2019March 9, 2019

On Everlasting

She sits a widowed star beyond the rest, And whispers of the final kiss. Entrances souls who chance to look With promise of eternal bliss.   She glared in through the eyes, and saw We lack it in our minds, … Read More

by Clara Wilson-Hawken on February 14, 2013March 22, 2013

Slip

it rained sixteen months – heavy – before we found you, mud, child, slicked but buffeted, sinking backward & forward. you resisted and slid further smoothing into before as our hands built out to after. smile – we coo – … Read More

by Nathan Eckstein on October 3, 2013October 4, 2013

If Poems Were Children

The Great Drying-Up is coming.
I can feel it in
the way I’m beginning…

by Margaret Sullivan on October 22, 2009March 17, 2013

Puppy Videos

I’m all about puppies during finals because I never feel like less of human than when I have written the phrase “sociopolitical framework” and wondered whether what I meant was actually “geopolitical,”

by Susannah Sharpless on February 14, 2015February 16, 2015


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