MARGARET RONDA

MARGARET RONDA

MORNING EXERCISE I spend the morning as mornings are spent What is it to want without thought Wash the grains of rice, scrub cheeks Am I breathing yes Cut up fruit on a plate Dream of hiking down a cool mountainside alone AQI a bruise darkening Eat the zucchini,...
RICHARD CURTIS

RICHARD CURTIS

IN MY TEETH https://thomasu-my.sharepoint.com/personal/rcurtis_thomasu_edu/_layouts/15/onedrive.aspx?id=%2Fpersonal%2Frcurtis%5Fthomasu%5Fedu%2FDocuments%2FIn%20My%20Teeth%2Emp4&parent=%2Fpersonal%2Frcurtis%5Fthomasu%5Fedu%2FDocuments&ga=1
ANDREW RADER HANSON

ANDREW RADER HANSON

Twentynine Palms December rasp, dust in stream, lust of color illumined. The dealer smears the stars & splits a stone decked & assembled by yesterday’s air. Tumbleweeds gambol sunward, and, in the dusk, by their shadows, weave the sky into the sand— Over...
ERIK KENNEDY

ERIK KENNEDY

WHAT THINKING FEELS LIKE I reckon I remember how the story goes, but then I come to the moment in the fable when the man pulls the thorn out of the lion’s paw, and the thorn turns out to be another tiny lion, rampant and raging, who also needs...
Catherine Rockwood

Catherine Rockwood

THE SHIP TRAFALGAR Non-stop northern light. Men moved in it like gurry sharks biting two days past death. We needed to fill our hold so we caught, cut, and barrelled. The usual process was gone through again, again. Only fog slowed us. Sometimes then we slept, leaving...
Samantha Carroll

Samantha Carroll

SEASICK I vomit all over the floor as my mother undoes my necklace. It was the fountain made of white chocolate seashells. I walk down the isle crying and gripping each petal, forgetting to let them drop. Or maybe I try, but my hands are too wet from nausea. My...