We can't help stretchinginto something called the pastand then forward into historyon these tendrils
— Reed Bye
Next year isOut dancing with
— Jack Collom
I wander behindclosed eyes. My way of stayingaway from here, my wayof being dust.
— Laura Cesarco Eglin
And as the sky shifts pink toaccommodate the day, I make ahole for a small soul in my throat.
— Ella Longpre
I feel the field grow cold.I hear the day yawn black.
— Marielle Grenade-Willis
what is my time left behindwho will educate the all the childrensing them songs at evetide
— Anne Waldman
Her skin shines mockinglyin rebellion. Light bendsaround her like a scar.
— Starr Owen
I did not love to ascendthat ruined stair.
— Joanna Ruocco
belly growing upward againstgravity, her entire world
— Lisette Alonso
every day this vast mysterypasses over the town where you were born
— Third Eye Broadcast
I shall be here when I get here again
— Alan Mudd
every point on the spinning earthhears your voice, touches your breath
— Ryan Wade Ruehlen
like a sail I found myselfin material I could carry
— T Begley & Olga Broumas
abyss seek capsule eat o din
— W. Scott Howard
We go with the poetry of all weknow, and all we do not know.Even the unknowing is love.
— David Mutschlecner
I am standing in the wet grass,I am requesting the impossible.
— Nina Pick
Mouths opened one by oneFrom every shining poreOf my body
— Jonathan Simkins
The muslin curtains bloomAnd the stars fall down on me
— Thomas Phalen
so beautiful, even God is forgiven
— Laura Chalar
Made of ironPainted white
— Ginger Teppner
— Alicia Cahalane Lewis
In desire which envelops thoughtIn night where the moon is a handful of violent birds
— Mark DuCharme
I am a damp veilA mad dame alive in mud
— Tara Walker
there is intelligence to it, even if I can't quite grasp the design in a moment.
— j/j hastain
With shining paws, the animal's only sin was hunger
— Sherry Luo
The plans you drew have decomposedbeneath fresh layers of experience and a desireto see the sky close by its own accord
— Nicholas Fuenzalida
Your vision collides with the hills, the skyan enormous parasol, cobalt blue, unribbed.
— Jaime Robles
Strange heat in the front of my brain.You don't get to chooseyour obsessions, not really.
— Eleni Padden
look at it whose face is that is that face yours.
— Genelle Chaconas
I do not count the mountains—who knows where to begin?
— Curtis Romero