2019-2020 Poetry Contest Second Place

Continue reading ““How a lake flash-froze a herd of horses” by Erin L. McCoy”
2019-2020 Poetry Contest Second Place
Continue reading ““How a lake flash-froze a herd of horses” by Erin L. McCoy”
2019-2020 Poetry Contest Third-Place
this farm has taught me how to fold a stone
with words, a whisper
from a couch, not stretched out but so upright
it hurts the back, straining,
i leave this behind Continue reading ““how to fold a stone” by Nicole Oquendo”
2019-2020 Poetry Contest Winner
This is an arrival of the found. A
multiplicity of layouts on many
different timelines. I have tried to
distill what may be useful. What may
be read like a blueprint. Continue reading ““To Begin, a Dear Reader” by Erika Hodges”
Joshua Young is the author of six collections, most recently, Psalms for the Wreckage (Plays Inverse, 2017) and the chapbook, Weekends of Sound: 764-Hero Mixtape (Madhouse Press, 2020). His novella, Little Galaxies, is forthcoming from Los Galesburg Press in 2020. Joshua lives just outside Seattle and you can find him online at joshuabrianyoung.com.
A hummingbird quivers near the open window—
a brown violetear, Colibri delphinae,
flashes glimpses of its emerald throat, dips
into flowers—buries itself in a trembling bloom
while I answer the phone. Continue reading ““The Morning After” by K. M. Huber”
… something beyond themselves, beyond words.
-Celan-
There’s a scent that can’t be defined
like breathless painting, music, dance
unplowed yet into sentient fields,
graphic grey-mists hovering water,
that won’t be read or turned to tongue Continue reading ““One Art” by GTimothy Gordon”
The Tale
At Ali’Shan we witness what’s left
of skeletal rare red cypress
Nippon clear-cut an aeon ago. Continue reading ““Synoptic: In Red and Blue” by GTimothy Gordon”
Gaudí tapped me on the shoulder in the nearly-finished Casa Batlló and asked me if I liked the center atrium. Having been raised in a farmer’s stucco house, I thought I’d say it was beautiful. Artists always seek beauty, right? Before I could remember how to say beautiful in Catalan, he started up again about the blue tile and was it the blue of the ocean or of the sky. And that’s when I knew he meant to find truth, and that beauty was just a house that he saw from the train that went by too fast to see. Continue reading ““Not Barcelona” by Jill Bronfman”
Edward Michael Supranowicz has had artwork and poems published in the US and other countries. Both sides of his family worked in the coalmines and steel mills of Appalachia.
Enter La Basílica de la Sagrada Família
Past the glories of art and color and light
There is a tower
It is dark inside, and the path is difficult Continue reading ““Familiar” by Jill Bronfman”