I tell my therapist it’s like a backpack, there are pockets I still have to explore.
“The Gravity of the Situation” by Zeke Jarvis
Her statement had a dramatic effect, because her hair was floating in practically every direction. It looked a little like a painting of a sunrise.
“Nightmared” by Annie Stenzel
Say I told these stories to a shrink, unfurled each episode/like a story-board, spoke them without undue inflection.
“The Island” by Alex Tunney
The places themselves don’t matter that much. What I remember was the time I spent with him and the conversations we had.
“My Moon Book” by Jordan Davis
Now as the waves crash over us/ and the ones who pushed the buttons/ leave this world to their lizards
“I’ve learned that my experience is my experience and that perhaps there’s comfort to others in articulating that”: An Interview with Oliver de la Paz
But I also don’t let such apprehensions stop me from writing as honestly and personably as I can.
Two Poems by Vivian Wagner
We’re begging the world/to remember our name,/but we barely remember it/ourselves.
“[My mother is suffering from uterine cancer and all I can think about are the 80s]” by Stephen Fellner
That’s the kind of man I am: I don’t believe in any lyric “I.” I don’t have time for any mind games. The “I” is either you or the poem’s a fraud.
Three poems by Julie Bloemeke
He set down my cup, showing me coffee trees,/ Corpus Christi costumes, the totora boats/ drying upward to the sky, the salt collectors/ in the Sacred Valley, sand.
Three Poems by Steven Cordova
“I’ll open a locker and there it’ll be—your head! ‘Thank God you found me!’ it’ll say. ‘I’ve been in here for days!’”
