photo of spinning top

Rotation by Devon Balwit

The world spins me, tucked into its spokes, thoughts a gymnast’s ribbon flaring, altered by degrees, wheeling through sun and shadow. I stretch, twist, pull tight, the maypole center of conspiring forces. Journeying, I am the herm, wherever I stand, center. The light about me breaks color. I gather shards, pocket palettes. I toss fracture…

35,000 years ago vagina

Ars Poetica on T by Laura Page

In the kitchen, the oven clicks until it’s cool again, until the weight I thought was needing a fuck cools and balls into something more juvenile and optimistic. Mama would never say that, even to herself—fuck. My gyno checks to make sure my copper ‘T’ is adjusting to the culture shock, isn’t slouching in her…

photo of interior of museum

Two Poems by Hannah Cohen

Body as an Alberto Giacometti Sculpture Just think, this is about as close to the wire frame and knife’s edge for a head I’ll ever get. My spaces are full, been thin and slipped so many times. If you’re a museum, call me a standing wreck, god, yes, I’m yours. Superficial Today I learned there…

photo of moth

Two Poems by Claudia Serea

The places we used to roam I’ve been there, hanging out with the dwarf at the Palisades circus, and with the clown with tragic eyes smoking a cigarette on the roof of the flying Zamboni. I’ve been there, in another life, a memory, a photograph, a dream. There’s nothing romantic about that. And the angel…

photo of sea anemone

Two Poems by Patrick Bower

Adaptations A Brindle Afghan disappears, if she can manage to be still,   before a backdrop of shrubbery like triggerfish into the sargassum   a jaguar into the understory or a human into a plaza,   where hundreds are dancing, swaying together or apart,   like the tentacles of a sea anemone hypnotic, concealing harpoons.…