On The Sopranos, my favorite character is Furio. I like him for his silk shirts, his collared shirts, his tiger-striped shirts, his floral-patterned shirts, his wide and open v-neck shirts where Jesus can peek out, laid in gold on bare skin. I like him for his hair, his horse-thick luscious hair. I’d bite his ponytail… Read More the beautiful silk shirts of famed tv mobster furio giunta ~ prose poem by Masha Kurbatova

The Best I Can Describe It First came the single-celled things. Then came the urge to divide. They vibrated, stretched, and became two things. Next came fibers, then worms, etc. Then someone invented the day I was born. Everything bloomed. Congratulations all around. To pass the time we went to nice restaurants. Someone invented overpriced… Read More The Best I Can Describe It ~ prose poem by Jeffrey Hermann

Maraschino Marco says the pool boy quotes Cioran between laps I’m stirring negronis with menace, an aperitif for the impending apocalypse. Delphine keeps her sunglasses on through the eulogy because she says fun is photographed better with a rainbow lens The yacht is named Persephone, which feels on the nose for a woman who spends… Read More Maraschino ~ poetry by Sarp Sozdinler

Whack-A-Mole I am old, near death, with questions. I dig for answers. Mole-sized, I scuttle over the lawn, dig a hole and enter. A twitchy nosed mole rounds a corner and mocks me. With outsized claws she continues to relentlessly dig, tunneling ahead like a manic bucktoothed bulldozer. Moving dirt, eating earthworms like I suck… Read More Whack-A-Mole ~ poetry by Mac McLeod

GIRLHOOD AS AN APOCALYPSE #1 Born to die, we feel it in our bones End of the first act And we’re a bunch of unknowns Our time on earth is not our own Didn’t sign the contract Born to die, we feel it in our bones Wishing we were clones Our ideologies are abstract And… Read More Three Bastardized Villanelles ~ poetry by Kendra Augustin

                        Jill Crammond is the author of the chapbook Handbook for Unwell Mothers (Finishing Line Press, 2023). Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Asterales, Shame(LESS) Anthology, Made from Midnight: Delirium (Poets in the Pines Press), Mom Egg Review, Bending Genres, Sheila-Na-Gig, Slipstream, and elsewhere. A two-time Pushcart Prize and Best… Read More The First Grave Mistake ~ poetry by Jill Crammond

Creek Bed Meditations #24 Is it so simple as to be if we touch the world the world can no longer exist in the same way? I have to really think to remember we have a natural history as well. The East light can be a tide, but what will it take with it? We… Read More Creek Bed Meditations #24 ~ poetry by Darren C. Demaree

Christine Jackson is retired from her day job, three decades of teaching literature and creative writing at a South Florida university.  She continues to clock in on a life-long night shift writing poetry.  Her work has been published in an array of online journals, including The Ekphrastic Review, Verse-Virtual, South Florida Poetry Journal, and Chameleon… Read More Seven Randos Share a Wooden Pew ~ poetry by Christine Jackson

Whatever Happened To Baby J I remember that black circle spanning two pages of the TV Guide. The question was about falling into a hole that small, or it may have been a statement. Either way unfathomable. And also, what kind of well was that anyway? All my well knowledge involved a circular brick structure,… Read More Whatever Happened to Baby J ~ poetry by Christina M. Rau

Young Gannet I’m tired of crows and their death banquets. Really —lighten up, Ted. Do you keep your glasses on during sex? School is over. It’s parrot season and there’s a gold rush in Cuzco. Sure, the flesh is sad and I haven’t read Hesse since New Paltz. Rachel, that bird girl, loved the mystery… Read More Young Gannet ~ poetry by Damon Hubbs

Objects in the Fairfield Inn Lobby Currently Nudging Me Into Psychosis  drum lampshades in barely varying shades of taupe porcelain asterisk accessory (bludgeoning weight) menu for an 80s-themed pizza joint where absolutely zero items have pun names thermostat in a locked case, case only partially screwed to wall map to a local weather museum endorsed… Read More Objects in the Fairfield Inn Lobby Currently Nudging Me Into Psychosis ~ poetry by Erica Reid

Haircuts after “Beneath the Layers” (below) ~ Kurt Reynolds Lined up, wiped clean, eldest to the baby, sons are screwed to a gilded frame. Ferrules are paint-caked, brushing scenes of horror on shot-pocked alley walls. Abstract, outlines of girl’s breasts— no girls left, but brothers are bristle brushes with a taste for mannequin. Fiberglass flesh… Read More Haircuts ~ poetry by Robert Carr

P.H. Coleman looks out a window full of forest and its denizens, dogs and people, and writes. With help from  Sze, Harjo, Pardlo, Jackson, Duhamel (whether they knew it or not), he’s appeared in Eunoia Review, Trouvaille Review, Quail Bell Magazine, Dillydoun Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Dodging the Rain, Hyacinth Review, Ink In Thirds, etc.

Victoria Nordlund is the Poet Laureate of Glastonbury, CT, and lead master teaching artist of The Nook Farm Writers Collaborative at The Mark Twain House & Museum. Her poetry collections Wine-Dark Sea and Binge Watching Winter on Mute are published by Main Street Rag. She is a Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize Nominee,… Read More While looking at the Hermann Grid Illusion ~ poetry by Victoria Nordlund

To Do List Take on the load of the burdened. Picture cutting the baby’s cord with your teeth & cremate the fetus in your eyeballs for the rest of the ultrasound examination. Observe the next woman’s follicles (after separating ovaries from bowel) & figure out why her (breast) ducts are dilated with no baby in… Read More To Do List ~ poetry by Kataru Yahya

Manon After Alexander Agadzhanov, Marianela Nuñez & Federico Bonelli Not too far. Yes slowly, yeah. LIFT. A little bit late. AWAY more! Come closer close— Go go go go— That’s enough, enough. Bourrée bourrée bourréebourréebourrée… HOLD it. That’s enough, enough—come back to him. HOOOLD. That’s right. Okay, okay. Not—you okay? Not bad at all. Just… Read More Manon ~ poetry by Ellie Snyder

Daltokki’s Time-Lapse of a Noni [00:00:00] With enough work, I pass for beautiful. In the mirror, my talced face mouths: —Daltokki: Aren’t most girls plain to start? Her paws dusted white, still grinding—more, never stopping. [03:00:00] At the mall kiosk, a woman hands me a glossy flyer: BEFORE / AFTER, jawlines sharpened into crescents. Tape… Read More Daltokki’s Time-Lapse of a Noni ~ poetry by Kimmy Chang

Burn Nitro Say prayers Say vitamins Eat, eat, eat These are the demandments, brother. Terry Bollea lied and we let him back into our hearts. The New World Order is for life, brother, repeated like a mantra every Monday night. But he changed costumes, and we suspended every ounce of disbelief, so the entirety of… Read More Three Poems ~ poetry by Chris Dolan

Marlowe’s guayabera sticks to his skin like ocean salt, toes peeking over the edge of a kidney bean dredged in soft cyan. He hates the valley. Tells me it’s a man-made lake of pure beige stocked with confidence men and carnal women. Some ruby-headed cutie with curves like a candy cane queries the crowd for… Read More philip marlowe is invited to a beginners improv graduation party in van nuys ~ prose poem by Ben Starr

Sun Box after Joseph Cornell’s “Suzy’s Sun”  In the beginning on a bench beside a river, currents like moissanite facets jumping crests, we were two old souls that only the sun could know, hot blazing pillars of photons through water vapor and dust illuminating us like a spotlight— not white godspot, but a free-range egg… Read More Sun Box ~ poetry by Kristen Keckler