By Austin Allen
Even weeks after you went, they came:
Frontgate, Fresh Finds, Hearthsong—the names blurring,
the smiling…
Frontgate, Fresh Finds, Hearthsong—the names blurring,
the smiling…
Explore Poems: Family & Ancestors
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- By Austin AllenKeyed up after a sleepless flight,
we stared at the Place de la Comédie:
the stone Graces glowing pink… - By Victoria ChangTwo swans turn into four swans. As if each swan yearned for time but time just multiplied into other…
- By Nay ThitBefore I was born, my mother says, there was another boy. My brother. One day, half-asleep during lunch…
- By Nay ThitWhen my turn came, my father dressed me meticulously like a piece of dried fish. We all bear the jagged…
- By E. Ethelbert Millerwe would take the train to brooklyn
leaving the bronx
down through harlem
out to prospect park
bergen… - By Mayda Alexandra del VallePrimero it’s hablando in whatever language
fits your need at the moment.
It’s stories about an unbalanced… - By Kevin PruferThe sprayed cockroach doesn’t know
it’s already dead.
It’ll scratch around
behind the refrigerator
while… - By Kevin PruferAn antique spacesuit with a skeleton inside it.
For many years, it has circled the earth.
___
Sometimes… - By Sharon LinI prefer the way I feel
in the old country
someone tweeted. Timeline of nations
to nations. I mean
something… - By Sharon LinThe woman claimed she was Chinese at birth. She was not Chinese.I am not Chinese but I look the part…
- By Eleni Sikelianos & Courtney StephensAsklepius: the god of medicine.
Asklepius had a daughter who was the goddess of universal remedy: Panacea.... - By Courtney Conradone of twelve, your sisters’ favorite
and nightmare. Your forearm, an interceptor
for knives aimed at … - By Thembe Mvulaon the ride home from the fado bar,
uber driver repeats is the music okay?
i glance at the man rated 4… - By Keith JarrettI’d bump into them in the hallway at night
when I tiptoed down to fetch apple juice.
Sometimes they would… - By Roger RobinsonUnder the billowing heat of the white
tarpaulin church tent, my mother lowered
her worshipping hands and… - By Nii Ayikwei ParkesSome mid days, blank moments in loud
gatherings when I fall from the conversations’
sweetening threads… - By Malika Bookeri.
But Noah found grace in the eyes of the lord
and thus formed the habit of my non-naming,
there … - By Marianne ChanAt the playground, my mother hid from me, I couldn’t find her, and I called her name a thousand times…
- By Linda HoganFor those who don’t come to the end of this poem,
some harsh and endless wave of ocean
will bring to…