Category: Poetry
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February
by Anonymous February is the cruelest month. teasing me incessantly with cautious rays of sun rolling through bare trees. I am sure this light would illuminate the leaves by my window but they have left instead, they litter the ground like soldiers fallen in a fated war. February brings signs of warmth that waits in…
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Are There Too Many Poems About New York?
by Sara Baudler ILonely cigarIn the sculpture garden—Do men do this often? IIJust-browning snips of roseWedged into names I cannot hearOver the roar of waterFalling down pits I wish were bottomless. IIIUndulating Hudson—Dizzying and drunken—the kids—Playing pickup on brutalist courts—Inexorable.
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Returning
by Scout Noble when you step out onto the deck, the air wraps itself around you; it smells of melted snow, rivulets of glacial water come to rest in the lake at your feet, it smells of fresh soil, dense thicket, and ponderosa pines. the deck itself, plastic woodgrain beneath the soles of your feet, …
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Beloved
by Alex Barnett I walk secret roads that wind and turn through caverns they ascend you will never see and descend for a short eternity until 11:13 rain turns me left to a bed built underneath a cloud by two guests: Beloved Beloved so i fall asleep dreaming of poems i will never write always…
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Death’s Birds
by Anonymous One winter night wading through a neighborhood slick with tears and dying buds of February’s false spring, I asked Death who trudged beside me, what he was doing in the windows. He was catching birds, he said. In the midst of cold, where sadness teams like mosquitos to light, and voices build a…
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The Yellow House
Inspired by Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman // Written by Ainsley King My head is wrapped in yellow wallpaper. Peeling golds, falling canaries, shriveling lemons, and crumbling ambers. A stifling hand of chartreuse on my mind. Tornados of neon’s swirl in the sunshine of my brain. Pools of ochre rest and ripple in the…
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Twisted Fruit
by Alex Barnett twisted fruit grows from ordinary trees Sprouting at awk ward angles disturbing the ordered spirals and twists the manicured leaves off-color, bru ised, and s our ripped off and thrown under turning spokes inside thick rubber wedges under rumbling metal beasts spewing smoke and hellfire an ordinary assembly line monster except for…