by Paula Rodriguez Hidden in the magical forests of the Spanish North West, there is a place where one river makes love to the Atlantic...

By Birdie Marie Rodriguez She sailed away on the feathers of a heavenly thing that broke me. Selah. There is a wonder in the sorrow of...

By Ahrend Torrey Me writing this poem is not just me writing this poem, it’s the whole human race having made it through some of the...

By Robert Rothman You won’t perish, any more than the rose bush will, though when the looper shears off a cane, ringing out like a shot,...

by Christopher Clauss I thought for a moment of microplastics at the sea floor; I have given up plastic straws for the rest of my days...

by Thomas Kneeland Beyond the threshold of this door whispers the sea, and this slave house answers through the carvings imprinted in the...

By Karl Plank Two rumors have been circulating in town. The one, How a murder of crows gathered in the corn field while You played with...

By Nicole Rollender An October day, now the memory of salt & fromageries in Paris & wind-dark— birds the swoops of cathedrals. How bright...

By Ken Meisel Something was playing with me in the almond orchards, it                wasn’t her,                                      ...

By Ahrend Torrey In Louisiana, we don’t eat lobster. But on this day, in keeping with the tradition we always had with our friends, we...

By Ahrend Torrey Everything is here now. Then in an instant, it’s changed. You know the old saying: you can’t step in the same river...

By Nicole Rollender John the Baptist’s head on a platter. Night begins with this beheading, but also blooming: skull-colored tuberose...

by Robert Fillman A century has passed since you straddled that log, delicate neck stretching to meet the creek’s surface, snout skimming...

By Benjamin Harnett I’d been in a funk lately but I’m out of it now— write that in your dream book, why don’t you! What is it about the...

By Ken Meisel Off Highway 5, in the San Joaquin Valley, I spotted a gold finch, his yellow shoulders prideful, glorious, like poured...

By Ahrend Torrey —this moment swelling like a bulb before your eyes, holding Sun slowly illuminating the blinds. Do you hear the wren...

By Benjamin Harnett Everything you think you know about some flowers is wrong, is what this bouquet seems to say, as we feed it to the...

By Robert Rothman I know of no deeper orange than a poppy sprung in spring, cracking open hard earth on a slender green stem, all the...

By James Dewey measure the place with your own two feet count height & length & width      with breath walk & run the streets to know...

By King Grossman Through the gray blanketing clouds a breakthrough of silver stop and look stop everything when the blue dog is most low...