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: Living
Showing 1-20 of 9,339 poems
- By Austin AllenKeyed up after a sleepless flight,
we stared at the Place de la Comédie:
the stone Graces glowing pink… - By Victoria ChangThat two shells could be connected at their centers is a new thought I’ve never had. The way the canvas with its colors now turns into cubes. My life has been livid with itself for too long.
- By Nay ThitBefore I was born, my mother says, there was another boy. My brother. One day, half-asleep during lunch…
- By Nate Marshallour vow—
if vowless by thirty
then us
was such
a stupid, childish way
to say love.
but love we were… - By E. Ethelbert MillerAfter reading my obituary
folks went to their local bookstores
looking for my books. For a few days… - By Mayda Alexandra del ValleI want to ask you if you ever wanted to leave.
If you can see yourself living somewhere other than here… - By Courtney KampaA man sits across from me, patterned silk padlock
at his neck and orders us whatever
people drink from… - 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 Anne Halsey1. Recent death of mother, keeps house for old father.
- By Cynthia CruzI had a fellowship but lived poorly
On cheap beer and penny candy.
Later, a career of killing time.
But… - By Darius Simpsonbut i know better. i know poets like you don’t do no half-steppin. especially not on your way out. especially…
- By Gabrielle CalvocoressiNot an optimist. I lie awake at night and say the name
of everyone on the block and for three blocks … - By Shann RayI . seated at a table for two inside Caffè Florian Venice
- By Rigoberto GonzálezBoys will be boys, the saying goes,
even if that boy will one day
age into Messiah. One would
never guess… - By Elana BellOnce in a village that is burning
because a village is always somewhere burning And if you do not look… - By John BurnsideNothing is adapted to the fret
of LED and blockwork, snow-drift gusted
Over ice into
the hayricks, scraps… - By Pierre JorisIt wasn't even around Pentecost
and nothing was flowering
but it was an overheated day
mid-February & mid-town... - By Pierre JorisYou should, once I’m gone, mourn only as long
as you hear the bell, the dark one, from the tower;
as long…