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Take the I Out
By Sharon Olds
But I love the I, steel I-beam
that my father sold. They poured the pig iron
into the mold, and it fed out slowly,
a bending jelly in the bath, and it hardened,
Bessemer, blister, crucible, alloy, and he
marketed it, and bought bourbon, and...
The City in Which I Love You
By Li-Young Lee
And when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
and I mount the…
Ultimately Everything Becomes Boring
By Sri Chinmoy
Ultimately everything
Becomes boring.
Even great miracles
Become boring.
Even the tremendous powers of…
Cyrus & the Snakes
By Ada Limón
My brother holds a snake by its head. The whole
            length of the snake is the length

of my brother’s body. The snake’s head
            is held safely, securely, as if my brother

is showing him something in the distant high grass.
            I...
Calling Things What They Are
By Ada Limón
I pass the feeder and yell, Grackle party! And then an hour later I yell, Mourning dove afterparty! (I call the feeder the party and the seed on the ground the afterparty.) I am getting so good at watching that...
Totem
By R. L. Swihart
The young man says, “Alan can
do anything he wants”

“Not fly,” I say

The young man returns
a puzzled look…
I’m a Fool to Love You
By Cornelius Eady
Some folks will tell you the blues is a woman,
Some type of supernatural creature.
My mother would tell…
Apocalypse
By Sri Chinmoy
Within, without the cosmos wide am I;
In joyful sweep I loose forth and draw back all.
A birthless, deathless…
Self-Portrait as David Lynch
By David Roderick
I wear a flower in my lapel.
I like the sweetness of its lie in my nose.
A carnation, the fool’s flower,

its heart a wilting empire.
In late-night editing sessions,
I imagine I’m planting flowers

in the sockets of eyes. Whatever helps
me reach our rigor...
Intimacy
By Paisley Rekdal
How horrible it is, how horrible
that Cronenberg film where Goldblum’s trapped

with a fly inside his Material
Transformer: bits of the man emerging

gooey, many-eyed; bits of the fly
worrying that his agent’s screwed him—

I almost flinch to see the body later
that’s left its...
The Bug Wrangler
By Mike Doughty
He was jailed for cruelty to insects, and his agent wasn’t answering the phone, so he stayed awake in the cell all night, pictures jumping around his head of the cops and the blowdryer they took as evidence. He used...
Bright Bloom
By Helene Achanzar
I wish I had hiked the frozen hill tonight
for reception, called to tell you I had a good time

hearing the two Somali cab drivers laughing
near an avalanche of on-sale oranges.

I played a prince in absolute awe
as the orchestra soared....
Marigolds of Fire
By Ama Codjoe
1.

He had a caribou's face. Once he let me
lick the sadness there. It tasted of salt

and moss-covered rocks. He grew the beard
of a mountain goat. He scaled the face

of a mountain. Lying beside him, I stared
into the face of faceless...
Muybridge’s Horse in Motion
By Holly Mitchell
1.
After the beginning of the gallop, there are counts when the horse is in the air, her
legs withdrawn, a diamond shape.

This is called suspension.

2.
Her name is Sallie Gardner.

She’s by Vandal, out of Charlotte Thompson, Kentucky bred, of Irish pedigree, a
Birdcatcher.

Now...
XLIX. ("its a secrete")
By Jos Charles
its a secrete

the grls speeching mye hole /

inn 2 the lindens / wee go out

& playe footballe / verie nashenallie

how wee leeve a stall / piteus

wen the grls

speech me /

this is how u make a porno / ...
Into the Weeds
By Kevin Prufer
The brutality of those two men
who broke into her apartment
and murdered her boyfriend,
...
I Have Wasted My Life
By Justin Phillip Reed
There it goes, thin thing,
cheshiring between trees
whose reaper-robes trail
...
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#Bringbackourgirls—Mama’s Boy?
By DaMaris B. Hill
Every wife must apologize for not being her husband’s
mother? But he will not forgive you. The absence
of his mother's kiss is the scar of repeated
wounding. He marries you too young, before
he littered his seeds along the road. This is why
he...
Heliodora
By H.D.
He and I sought together,
over the spattered table,
rhymes and flowers,
gifts for a name.

He said, among others,
I will bring
(and the phrase was just and good,
but not as good as mine,)
"the narcissus that loves the rain."

We strove for a name,
while the light of...
At Ithaca
By H.D.
Over and back,
the long waves crawl
and track the sand with foam;
night darkens and the sea
takes on that desperate tone
of dark that wives put on
when all their love is done.

Over and back,
the tangled thread falls slack,
over and up and on;
over and...

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