Siri, are you there?

Four poems by Marie Albertson

Water I The womb Is made up of equal parts Water and stars. There is no way to distill this brew Further down in its essence. You wait until you cannot stand anymore The pressure ...

Neither sonnets nor haiku

Limericks showcase your cleverness and irreverence

Dear Hipster, Do you agree with my belief that haiku ought to be the poem of choice in the hipster community? They are simple yet crafty, and the principle of kireji — a sort of ...

Under the U Heights sign

Assaulted by sun, starlight dims

i loathe your neighborhood see the ghosts of myself on its streets — there! under the U Heights sign collapsed on grafittied bus stop bench, weeping. lamppost-leaning, sobbing. we shared our first kiss in that ...

By 60 we have lost two hundred thousand things

Three poems by Theresa Rogers

I read a person misplaces up to nine objects a day — ashtrays made of painted clay cherry red hula hoops china dolls and diamond rings a father at six. By 60 we have lost ...

Martin Camps — from seminarian to Beat poet

Born in Tijuana, moved to Juarez, now in U.S.

Giraffe in Juarez There’s a giraffe in the central park of Ciudad Juárez. Simple as that: a towering, Upper-Case and lonely giraffe. I studied her as she gazed at the sun sinking behind the hill ...

Methane Snow, Drinking at Mabel Murphy's, There Wasn't a Wing in the Sky

Is that a switchblade on the bar?

Methane Snow The scent of my father, the smoke from his cigarettes embedded in the leather band of his Timex watch, the smell of morphine and cancer as he died at the Soldiers and Sailors ...

Bass with bbb-ba-bump-bbb-bom-bub-ba bump

Giving secrets to Mingus when he wasn’t great yet

Emeline (For Buddy Collete) I want to go out through a poem Give a little whistle like Buddy Collete and Herbie Mann speaking Switch my woodwind from flute to sax Then back to swing of ...

Sleep Monster Growls Beneath the Mattress

And you, my monster, please don’t disappear

I Go to School in America At 5 AM I stir from sleep. go to school in America. Deep bruise sky lightens into cool streaks of purple, gray. Rooster calls the sun to the horizon; ...

Eyes are the best bullet proof vests

Two poems by Alex Simand

My Armenian Neighbor Argues about Mushrooms Eta ni lisitchka, my neighbor bellows, words through the threshold — the best place for argument, they say, and the timefield through which he will not pass. I hold ...

The worms will come for you soon

Three poems by Madeline Zilelian

My Golden Coast For Adrian Ernesto Cepeda Caught in my first traffic jam, just south of The Getty Center — I love this stretch of freeway — the congestion gave me stillness, time to memorize ...

I went outside just now and laughed

Three poems by Bill Mohr

1967: “My World Fell Down” Imperial Beach remains remote and intolerable, Both in memory and all its stammering desire. My radio flourished with L.A.’s visionary decibels. I feared its LSD as friendly fire. The hippies ...

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