Latest Writing
POETRY
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THE LUNGFISH by Michelle Gillett
Deep down inside, I am afraid of the lungfish suspended in its tank in the darkened room meant to emulate time when desert was ocean
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TWO POEMS by Patrick Rosal
UPTOWN ODE THAT ENDS ON AN ODE TO THE MACHETE What happens when me and Willie run into each other on a Wednesday night in Brooklyn? He asks, “Where we going?”
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TWO POEMS by Jennifer Givhan
NOCTURNE Then I remembered: Mama wasn’t gone but safe, in her bed, turning in sleep. It was I who went away—from Chopin in the bones, palms heavy with dates like dark purple fingers reaching toward sand, toward fruit sickly sweet…
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