Enough Muscular Grace

1. How strangely satisfied I am constructing containment as I assemble my child’s crib. Side-rail A’s tongue judders into the headboard’s groove, and a bolt spins in. Torquing the Allen wrench, I’m godlike: it disappears in my squeeze, burrows another bolt. But step two requires translation. Language—another of so many cribs, the human tongue honed… More

Mazza’s Vignette #101

If the marrow was fireworks and alcohol, the quick promises that never bother to shrug when they run out of technique, then we should have never worried when the last five years looked eerily similar to a dog humping the air to completion. Darren C. Demaree‘s poems have appeared, or are forthcoming in The South… More

Soul Life

I wake and walk in a body that demands daily but suffers not. Neither saint nor ruler angel nor power neither things present past or to come shall be my water. For as necessary as air and as unnoticed as my beating heart I go forth from within, boundaryless, infinite. Yvonne Higgins Leach‘s work has… More

Three Starlings

In the bare upper branches of a still-standing, colonial-era hanging tree recruited, reputedly, for intransigent young blacks, perch three starlings, widely spaced, still as the winter afternoon, silent as a boy left lynched, stiff in a hunkered-down way that suggests they will not fly away from this strangled place until— as they bear hard witness… More

Vocation (noun): occupation, calling, field, business: Poetry

Where in the world is there room for this: the daisy could stay forgotten, pressed between pages until disintegration, no one remembering to care. So you memorize this: how we placed the daisy so gently under the passage we together read, how we placed the book in its dusty place on a shelf. By day… More

Faces

The day I came to talk to my uncle about the letter was a day a shimmering came over the world, everything that was not me stepped away so that I would not die under the weight of walking with the devil, as the world is Lucifer’s, and everything is his imagination, the traffic, the… More

The Light Inside the Body

It is a peculiar thing only the tranquil mind can see, and once seen it shows you the other side of things– in the light you know what is broken can be fixed. Afaa Michael Weaver is the author of 14 collections of poetry, including The Government of Nature, which won the 2014 Kingsley Tufts… More