By CAConrad
each threadadded to the loom was a moment of the weaver’s life
Explore Poems: Concrete or Pattern Poetry
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- By CAConradeveryone’s drawing the Death Card the chair pressing
- By CAConradfruit fly
born in
hotel
room - By CAConradI feel felt by another but I’malone in the room
- By Yi LiI love cherries.
The fruit, juice, jam,
blossoms, prints on a summer
dress, in a black forest cake… - By Danielle Shandiin Emersonłeeshch’iih
across shitáá’
on the inside
of shilátsíín
from the
beesh bii’ ko’í
in the corner
of the
hogan.
My… - By Doug Gonzalezonly I stood in the rain with wet skin. I could taste the dew though it had not yet found my lips. …
- By Doug GonzalezCan You Hope Remember Remobilize Reorganize Revitalize Rewrite Relearn Repair Return
- By Noelani PitersI
remember I exist
at the braiding of
consciousand con
sumer,Kanaka
and culpable,
desire anddesired… - By Russell AtkinsOh didn’t it """ """ """
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rain
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Oh did
""" """ n’t… - By Stuart Cooke
Click the image above to access the JPG of this visual poem so you can zoom to read the text. A plain… - By Aram Saroyanall all
all all - By Kate Aschethe sac
itself wasclear
and I cleaned itlike a window
and in the windowsaw my baby
our baby[birdlike
mouth opennasalarea still
oversizedlike a beak]eye’s aperture blue-black
head thrownbackand twisted beginning
to separateneck brok
en in the contractions’violencetwo arms
two legstailbone translucent... [whatcolor is
the baby?]silent heart [sac contains“chorionic cavity”]
with utmost tendernessI... - By Alison C. RollinsI
see you,
peeping Tom,
beside yourself with
rage at what I done did,
hands gone idle from deprivation.
I see you, Uncle, with your fingers at the
trapdoor, to place crumbs of a biscuit at my mouth
in the dark. Through a hole the size of a... - By Alison C. RollinsI am
a product
of my time.
Time is a body
that resembles
a sound without a scale.
Forever foreclosed fortitude.
In heaven, the dinner bell rings
as elegy. The porch-light stars turn
on their mothering moths. Betrayal
takes at least two, and wherever two
or more are gathered, I am... - By Gabrielle Joy Lessansa muted longing for a
being of elsewhere without a
boundary or a
body like a
ball to throw me around in a
pig skin of public parts
of policies zero
privacies of every
body gets a
turn to frisk me of
numbered bodies &
trophied bodies &
saturated bodies... - By Tishani DoshiI’ll keep this brief. I remember the shock of Mr. G’s tiger-striped trunks
at the Madras Gymkhana Club. Nothing to conceal, everything to
declare, like a Mills & Boon hero. Shiver of ball and sack, acres
of hairy scrub. We could not imagine... - By Tishani DoshiThis
far north
the sun rises
and sinks in the
same spot. Insects
announce the apocalypse
and fog moves through all
the uncountable hours like a
bright gray scar. The forest is
awash in a dial of light more
luminiferous than a Canaletto. I
misuse the words forest, woodland,
jungle because I... - By Padma VenkatramanThink
how many long years
this tree waited as a seed
for an animal or bird or wind or rain
to maybe carry it to maybe the right spot
where again it waited months for seasons to change
until time and temperature were fine enough to...