Category: Poetry
Three Poems by C.A. Shoultz
The Ruins Along the mountain pass I made my way, Beneath the razor edges of the hills, Below the peaks that scraped the heightened air, Which at their summits still held hoary snow. My phone’s map app had long since ceased to work, And I had brought no compass for
Shadows Long and Shadows Short by Jeremy Gadd
Shadows do not own their shape
but rely on that of their origin—
whether alive or inanimate stone—
a shadow cannot survive alone. … Continue readingShadows Long and Shadows Short by Jeremy Gadd
Lead: Three Poems by Jessica Martin
Our golden apparitions decay and leave the poisonous lead behind … Continue readingLead: Three Poems by Jessica Martin
Tell Them (the song all of me sings) by Meghan K. Strapec
I’ll alight on this wing,
my own song to sing,
til darkness makes its call … Continue readingTell Them (the song all of me sings) by Meghan K. Strapec
The Poet’s Mask, a Poor Yorick Special Issue
Editor’s Note The theme for this special issue emerged from multiple sources of inspiration and observation that came together in a way that just made sense. I’d observed that poetry was our most popular submission category, that April was National Poetry Month, and that sometimes, a few
Continue readingThe Poet’s Mask, a Poor Yorick Special Issue
Remembering Yorick by Elizabeth Sylvia
Often, at home, I unpinned Yorick’s bells and put them on myself, taking a bit of laughter’s weight, for being teased requires greater patience than you think. … Continue readingRemembering Yorick by Elizabeth Sylvia
“I Don’t Know Anyone in the War” by Karen Schubert
Walter Cronkite ends the news with the number of American & Viet Cong dead, so older girls in bell bottoms fear for their boyfriends and brothers … Continue reading“I Don’t Know Anyone in the War” by Karen Schubert
Two Poems by Darren Demaree
I tend to see horses on the second floor of this new house, which we bought with money that wasn’t ours … Continue readingTwo Poems by Darren Demaree
Four Poems by Elle Shim
The Moving Man Said This house is haunted, and then he sat down my couch.He said it casually, like a comment on the late Octobersnow, heavy and wet—perfect for pining aloneover a man who will never come to the door. Perfect for wrapping blanket upon blanket and pretendingthe warmth is