after Denise Duhamel’s “MY STRIP CLUB” by Aaron DeLee MY GRINDR after Denise Duhamel’s “MY STRIP CLUB“ In my Grindrthe guys show upbaring grinsand hard-boundbooks they nimbly fingeropen as bottles of roséand buttons on cardigans.When the conversation’s litthey lick their thumbsand flurry a fan of pages to favorite passages––they’re so poignant.They excitedly exclaimhow close they […]
Tag: Poetry
by Meriden Vitale While sitting at the temple I’m reading a stirring obituary that ends with a warning. Jane isolated herself from her friends and eventually hung herself from the bookshelf in her apartment. The sister she hated got everything. Write a legally binding will to prevent this. Overheard: she was sharing her vulnerability. She […]
by JaLeah Hedrick Wife of Cain Oh motherless thing, first of us to beerased. Not even Eve with her cloutcould keep your name in the Book.You wandered (an animal) into that exurbof Eden. How did they make you human first?Wash you in the water of heaven, rinse awaythe scent of earth, that you could be […]
by Esther Ra self-portrait without a mirror tears form small, glossy patches on the poolof my skirt remind me how small is my sorrow after long stillness my body hums its tuneless& squeaking refrain kiln-dried spruce pianoin need of touch to make music your mouthteaches me the shape of my own measuresthe size of my yearn & the library […]
by Aysha Mahmood Directions Cling to me. Now, coil and squeeze, claw out my muscles,crunch out my bones, carve your name into my femur, digyour teeth deep into my thigh, make my skin sweat, foamat the mouth, growl and howl and devour – be rabid about it –rip out my nerves and swallow me whole, […]
by Benjamin Favero our mother a landscape we stay to paint our mothera landscape her stretch marks tree trunks ash and chestnutclouds bellied over her hands creased with peaks we hopethey grow in perfect varicose vines draped from roots to ankledeep as her womb of salt brine her ribs flared to cliffs againsta crested tide […]
by Matthew Williams Suburban Murmursa grandmother lifts her hands to catch the laughing child fields of orange poppies name our naked flanks running she plucks and eats the summer from bushes in the backyard tall as a robin my father stands at the roadside holding an unlit cigarette a woman hangs a white sheet in […]
by Kenneth Chacon Eucharist I once knew a manwho met Godin a crater on the moon. He fed me the bonesof his fingers & told methe crown of the earth restedat my feet in the floor. The armies of mensharpen knives.They fasten armorto beasts, bladescurved to the exactnoose of a neighbor’s neck. I saw the […]
by Sophie Bebeau SELF-PORTRAIT AS DAYDREAM you’d like to fuck the pool boy if you hada pool or a boy to clean it you’d like to be a middle-aged suburban Rapunzel wearing nothingbut a long Pepto pink satin robe feather trim drool on your chintidal wave swoops of your Coke bottle hair surging forth to drownyour boredom you’d […]
by A. Molotkov Transfusion 1. Sarah The smell of rot is so pervasive it adheres to the inside of my nose and mouth. I force myself to ignore it. Impossible. The horizon is interrupted by the red glow of forest fires. The other woman’s face, too, is tinted red. She’s walked with me for a […]
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A Word Flows Between Us
by Vimla Sriram A Word Flows Between Us When the word Heathen barrels past the street and lands at my feet, I already know its intended for me even if it hangs unclaimed suspended like molecules of mist before the averted eyes of the regulars at the transit center. * Among the more palatable meaning of Heathen […]
by Ellie Gomero Chen Chen is a writer, teacher and editor his second book, Your Emergency Contact Has Experienced an Emergency, is available from BOA Editions and Bloodaxe Books (UK). A finalist for a Brooklyn Public Library Book Prize and a best book of 2022 according to the Boston Globe, Electric Lit, NPR, and others, it has also been named […]
by Ellie Gomero Rudy Francisco is one of the most recognizable names in Spoken Word Poetry. He was born, raised and still resides in San Diego, California. At the age of 21, Rudy completed his B.A in Psychology and decided to continue his education by pursuing a M.A in Organizational Studies. As an artist, Rudy Francisco is […]
by Madison Whatley Peter Balakian is the author of several collections of poetry, including Ozone Journal (2015), winner of the Pulitzer Prize, and Ziggurat (2010), which wrestles with the aftermath and reverberations of 9/11. Gulf Stream Managing Editor, Madison Whatley, met with him in Miami to discuss his latest book, No Sign (2022). Their conversation has been edited for […]
by Nicole Tallman One summer, I paid Taco Bell more than my therapist, and that is saying a lot. My therapist said to get up and do something when I couldn’t sleep. Ever live in a town so small that every sit-down restaurant closes at 10 p.m.? Ever get anxiety and go to Taco Bell […]
by Nicole Tallman Pay the poets! Pay the poets! In real money, not just in flowers or free drinks or books! Give us rock star status! World tour all the poets (not just Rupi) in the fancy concert halls! Dress us up in ball gowns or tuxes and in VERSACE or Chanel! Some poets may not […]
by Nicole Tallman The moon is gay (AKA Say gay!) It’s June and the moon is looking even gayer tonight. She’s in Gemini—shining her super social waxing crescent moon face. I was born under a crescent moon. Yes, I was also born gay. That really isn’t debatable. There is no rainbow moon, but there should be. […]
by L Favicchia Abbreviated Button Slug Moth I learned young that some bodies can be killed,that there’s an important differencebetween slugs and caterpillars—the coldwet body of one curled in the Tootsie Roll leavesthat gathered beneath my mother’s bushesnext to the lamb’s ears she hated so much—too lamb, or not lamb enough. I was taught to […]
by a. adenike phillips you are good Found poem: It Does Not Matter If You Are Good, ELLE published online May 29, 20201 speak clearly and slowly, widen your eyesin situations or just the danger of everyday existenceavoid any air bubble or murky water—a trafficstop or anodyne situation: an apartment buildingwith a random white stranger […]
by Calista Malone Neon With the neon pink light flashing OPENin the storefront window of the arcadecalling up kids like dogs for dinner.You see your eyes, almost as wide asoranges under the glow. You can hear the humof the hulking speakers around the plexi-glassedscreens. At the bottom of your bag, you findenough quarters that, you […]
by Terry Belew The Great Raccoon War Slipping beneath tin sheets of pole barns, devouring cattle feed and corn. Shoot them on sight. They only come at night. Set out poison. A mother and kit skid down trees, tiny thumbs thumbing noses. A dozen furred bodies in a shed one-night, poisoned tongues […]
by Michelle Lizet Flores When you turn 52. You are now the age your mother never was. You’ve never seen an empty nest before–space and clutter. Who are youwhen no onedepends on you? Here are some instructions your mother couldn’t leave behind: Step out to the yardbarefoot. Dig your toesthrough the earth.Breathe her in. Pluck […]
by Diamond Forde FAT GOSPEL Alice realized she was fat all at once: when her youngest’sinfant-grip mitted into her folds, noticed how her nursed childmolded into its mountainous mother, cuddling too comfortablein Alice’s pillowed arms— 2 at first, Alice felt fine with her fat—assumed her armshad adapted to lift a child’s heft so that the […]
Or How to Honor Thy Mother by Diamond Forde CANDIED YAM CASSEROLEOr How to Honor Thy Mother INGREDIENTS 4 sweet potatoes swollen with sun¾ cup of brown sugar (molasses clung)1 c of white sugar1 cinnamon dashnutmeg (just a splash) 1 stick butter, split into pats2 fresh eggs¼ c of buttermilkone greased dish DIRECTIONS Diamond Forde’s […]
Or How to Monster by Diamond Forde CANDIED YAMSOr How to Monster INGREDIENTS 4 sweet potatoes swollen with sun¾ cup of brown sugar (molasses clung)1 c of white sugarnutmeg (just a pinch) 2 cinnamon sticks½ lb butter, split into patsorange juice (just a splash)1 lemon, zested & masheda stove near-explosive with gas DIRECTIONS Swamp the […]
by Jo Christian Extreme bouts of Growing Pains my Father Tends to with Absorbine Growing pains prodded my legs, restless as a horse’s,it’s skin shuddering under flies, always the urge to runrising. I inched closer to the bedside only waking to the thud of bone on wood.And this is how my father found me, crying […]
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Time Passes
by Marissa Ahmadkhani Time Passes and the cypress trees sway as gray cloudsrise to an overcast sky. I sip my coffeeas it steams into the morning mist,remembering the row of dark green treesnext to my childhood home,their feathered tips movingwith the wind—how I’d lay in the grass,eyes squinting defiance at the sunas my father trimmed […]
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