by Peter Jay Shippy I walk in the park and select a maple leaf. With my Sharpie I write：YOU ARE HERE. Carefully， I place the leaf back where I found i...
by Jordan Davis With practice I could fold a rose Or a theory of prose or some treason But what is to be got a satire？ Expedience？ the opera of laught...
by Jean Toomer Hair——braided chestnut， coiled like a lyncher's rope， Eyes——fagots， Lips——old scars， or the fir...
by Philip Levine Down sat Bud， raised his hands， the Deuces silenced， the lights lowered， and breath gathered for the coming storm. Then nothing， not ...
by Ted Kooser The porch swing hangs fixed in a morning sun that bleaches its gray slats， its flowered cushion whose flowers have faded， like those of ...
by Henri Cole Tired， hungry， hot， I climbed the steep slope to town， a sultry， watery place， crawling with insects and birds. In the semidarkness of t...
by Sandra McPherson Orange is the single-hearted color. I remember How I found them in a vein beside the railroad，A bumble-bee fumbling for a foothold...
by Anonymous My dress is silent when I tread the ground Or stay at home or stir upon the waters. Sometimes my trappings and the lofty air Raise me abo...
by Liam Rector Dressed in an old coat I lumber Down a street in the East Village， time itself Whistling up my ass and looking to punish me For all the...
by Spencer Reece I remember the ponies in the distance. I remember you talked of a war， no two wars， a failed marriage——discretely， withou...