By Myles C. Poydras
trenched pattern set deep
into its brown, pieces
secured in dark, a whole
thing living out its days…
into its brown, pieces
secured in dark, a whole
thing living out its days…
Explore Poems: Eating & Drinking
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- By Rigoberto GonzálezTranslated By Mahsa HojjatiAy, goldo, goldito, goldo
with those sunbathed baby cheeks,
I want to gobble you up in kisses.
Please go… - By Rigoberto GonzálezTranslated By Mahsa HojjatiAy, goldo, goldito, goldo
con esos cachetitos asoleados,
te quiero engullir a besos.
Anda sigue, coquet… - By Maya RibaultCiao sachet chum, porkpie panache,you ditsy-dots chatelaine.
Takes that much work to be a fairywith a hoyi-hoyi-hoyi. - By Brittany PerhamThe doctor tells her what she can’t eat
no grains no nuts no beans no sugar a tomato is OK
but no skins… - By Omotara JamesWhen Sarah Vaughan pipes from the great American songbook,
I forget time is dragging my body from one… - By Daniel HalpernThe redolence of rose and new road.
The attar of grass, recently cut.
The fish-whiff of anchovy.
The spinning… - By Nicole GonzalezThe Spiritual Symbiotic Triad
White corn masa harina
puff up on the comal,
Calabacitas steaming
… - By Jalen Skye SmallcanyonUnder noon’s gaze, eyes narrow search for the prize wether, ensnared by rope and legs bound by azure…
- By Caroline Laganas1 berry-stained month of summer
1 grandmother
2 cups flour
½ cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
½… - By Ariana LeeMama is half a country
away and I am newly adult,
so I wash grapes, measuring salt
by eyefuls to baptize… - By Janiru LiyanageA pound of
Bruised mangoes
Cleaved into halves, chilied and salted like the heads of
Dead fish, which… - By Leah Naomi GreenTake all summer,
your ember from the sun,
its walking meditation. Store it in small
vaults of light to … - By W. S. MerwinLate in May as the light lengthens
toward summer the young goldfinches
flutter down through the day for… - By Kinsale DrakeI feel god in this Taco Bell tonight:
Cheese, beans, rice, the witching hour
of missing someone. My mother
liked to cook with the worst kind of flour.
My father snuck sips of sweating drinks
clutched in my sister’s little fingers. This
is the spot to... - By Frank X Walker...walk into a bar in America.
Butterworth says, I’m being repackaged.
Ben says, I’m being rebranded.
Jemima says, I remember
when they branded my mama on her back.
The bartender says, I could stand in the middle
of Main Street and kill somebody
and I wouldn’t... - By Carol McCarthyMy husband leans against the counter,
chopping onions, julienning bell peppers,
his back to the door… - By Richard BlancoQue será, el café of this holy, incorporated place,
the wild steam of scorched espresso cakes rising
like mirages from the aromatic waste, waving
over the coffee-glossed lips of these faces
assembled for a standing breakfast of nostalgia,
of tastes that swirl with the delicacy... - By Isabel GalleymoreAnd he said to himself, if primates, rodents, and hoofed mammals each have their place, so must noodles, tinned fruit, and cheeses. If hoofed mammals are channelled into camels, pigs, and goats, then let there be cheeses soft and blue...
- By Sarah BarberThat summer I got very thin
on my diet of he-loves-me-not:
kale, fried egg, a tomato melted
in butter. And when I was flat
enough, gin and the ring-ring-
ring of that unanswered phone.
Each week I bought a new bottle
of vinegar—which is delicious
slopped on hot...