Slow Dance Some days I can go nearly an hourwithout thinking of the tasteof your mouth. Right now, I’m at schoolwatching teenagers fidget through a test.Outside, the sky is smoky and streets are wetand two grackles step lightly in yellow grass. Two weeks ago in Atlantic CityI stood on the boardwalkand looked out across the… Continue reading Tim Seibles
I want to cut the silence with one of your shoulderblades, blow moon-shaped kisses to orbit your skull as you sleep on the highest ledge of my insomnia, but I’m a broken promise in a pawn shop, and this is just a secret that happens to involve you. — Jeffrey McDaniel, from “Another Long Night… Continue reading Jeffrey McDaniel
Cussing doesn’t come from a lack of vocabulary – I know all the other words. None of them speak the same language that my fucking heart does. — Anis Mojgani
Ode to the Beloved’s Hips Bells are they—shaped on the eighth day—silvered percussion in the morning—are the morning. Swing switch sway. Hold the day away a little longer, a little slower, a little easy. Call to me— I wanna rock, I-I wanna rock, I-I wanna rock right now—so to them I come—struck-dumb chime-blind, tolling with… Continue reading Natalie Díaz
The Vale of Soul-Making 