Poetry - page 2

Thumbs <span style=by Meredith Hasemann" width="600" />

Thumbs by Meredith Hasemann

Tuck a severed thumb into a moist paper towel and place it in a plastic bag on the window sill to sprout. Hydroponic tomatoes don’t taste as good as the ones on a vine. It’s a completely controlled environment that has nothing to do with…

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I Look for You in a Cup of Tea <span style=by Julianne Jones" width="600" />

I Look for You in a Cup of Tea by Julianne Jones

Fog settles in my lungs, the night soft and rounded, wet. In the breath of wrinkled sheets, oaks will vanish. Roots unfurl like legs, and trees walk away. The damp rubs its gloved hands over my eyes as I cradle my skull. Should not lick…

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A Diasporic Population in Southampton, New York <span style=by John Stintzi" width="600" />

A Diasporic Population in Southampton, New York by John Stintzi

There are Canada Geese on Long Island spelling color with a U as they hulk around golf-turf lawns, hungrily dreaming of poutine. I watch from the sidewalk. To be honest, we’re equally surprised to meet each other. I think, Canada Goose! They think, Canada Human!…

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To an Imaginary Friend 4 <span style=by Adam Penna" width="600" />

To an Imaginary Friend 4 by Adam Penna

When I am dead and buried (we’ve been over this before), what happens to the part of me that casts its shadow here? Is it too much to hope a little of that solid mass remains and knows, remembering its former shape? I guess, as…

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Elephant Gold <span style=by Kerry Anderson" width="600" />

Elephant Gold by Kerry Anderson

I dream of elephants marching through puddles of liquid gold.                 A golden March is filled with elephants. The North Star shines through the curtains of my bedroom.         The north corner of my bedroom has a crack shaped like a star. Rainy days make the metal…

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Cooking Time: 70 Minutes by Carolyn Timbie

Cooking Time: 70 Minutes by Carolyn Timbie

With nothing to do, you gathered my most colorful shirts, and ripped them apart, and stitched from their new uselessness a ghillie suit. Now you flash around town, The Invisible Brightness, as if you can disguise your boredom with rags. I sit at home and…

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Oh, Lonesome Me by Billy Collins (excerpt)

Oh, Lonesome Me by Billy Collins (excerpt)

Again I woke up with no one smiling at me, unless you count the face formed by the closet doorknob, the tiny mouth of the keyhole looking comically surprised at its bulbous nose.

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His Excuse for Loving <span style=by Ben Jonson" width="600" />

His Excuse for Loving by Ben Jonson

Let it not your wonder move, Less your laughter, that I love. Though I now write fifty years, I have had, and have, my peers; Poets, though divine, are men, Some have lov’d as old again. And it is not always face, Clothes, or fortune,…

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Rhyme <span style=by Robert Pinsky" width="600" />

Rhyme by Robert Pinsky

Air an instrument of the tongue, The tongue an instrument Of the body, the body An instrument of spirit, The spirit a being of the air. A bird the medium of its song. A song a world, a containment Like a hotel room, ready For…

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‘We’ll Always Have Flushing’ <span style=by Jenna Le" width="600" />

‘We’ll Always Have Flushing’ by Jenna Le

We’ll always have flushing toilets, hot running water, refrigerators cluttered with takeout cartons, gushing blue stovetop flames on which each can prepare his little after-dinner share of tea, so be ashamed. We’ll always have flushing cheeks, arteries plumped by blood whose workman rhythms thud in…

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