Robbi Nester: Delicious
For me,
love has to rise like bread dough, worked until
it has a tender crumb. It’s not simple, though maybe
simplicity might come, if I work hard enough.
Ma Yongbo: A Dream at the Beginning of Winter (English & Chinese)
The broad leaves of the sycamore tree fall onto the small car,
once all the leaves have fallen, the car’s colour turns white,
receiving signals from the stars of the departed
Sean Sexton: Elysium
I am ready, like Basho — to turn away
from beauty today as he once refused to
consider Mt Fuji, stark in the distance,
one more time — not to be bothered by
the ineluctable.
Chana Bloch: Happiness Research
Scientists are closing in on
the crowded quarter of the brain
where happiness lives. They like to think
it’s hunkered down in the left prefrontal cortex.
Audio: Diving into the Wreck by Adrienne Rich
I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
Catherine Anderson: Diana’s Arrow
Nearby, I saw oak leaves
had settled like a helmet of ash on a statue
of Diana—protector of children,
women, all living things—the deity
whose arrow never misses.
Adam Patric Miller: Passing Through The Intersection
It made no sense to see him. He wore the leather coat he used to wear, an 8-ball on the back. Maybe this happens when you don’t acknowledge death.
Richard Hoffman: If You See Something, Say Something
I like complaining but afterward I feel ashamed
as if I met a man who had no feet from a bomb
my country sold his enemy for export rights to
this season’s coolest sneakers.
Jimmy Pappas: Invitation to join Michael Simms on Zoom, Monday, Dec. 15, 7pm ET
Join us when Michael Simms presents DIRTY REALISM on Monday, December 15 at 7 PM ET.
Murray Silverstein: Dante in Auschwitz, Ulysses in Hell
The storm that swirls in God’s dark heart,
our poor boat tossed, and sank, my crew & I all lost.
Mike Schneider: Elvis Night at Johnny’s
You wanted anything by Elvis, large
as kinetic energy, like the wiggle-waggle
of ocean breeze through palm fronds.
Hosanna. Jesus cruising down
the Avenue on his ass
Lisel Mueller: Necessities
A map of the world. Not the one in the atlas,
but the one in our heads, the one we keep coloring in.
With the blue thread of the river by which we grew up.
The green smear of the woods we first made love in.
John Guzlowski: Two poems about my mother
My mother still remembers
The long train to Magdeburg
the box cars
bleached gray
by Baltic winters
Elise Kazanjian: How To Be A Successful Dummy
Roll your googly-eyes
every few minutes.
Agree with him.
He will believe you.
