Category: Poetry

Discussing The Ravenous Audience with Kate Durbin

“One of the things I really wanted to do in the book was to hold the audience responsible at the same time as hold the woman responsible.”

“I think poets are rock stars. I don’t know why they don’t think they are.”

“Something I’ve been doing since the book has been “finished” is thinking about how the book isn’t finished.”

Q&A with Featured Poet Lisa McCool-Grime

“I wish that my relationship to my poetry was all skinny dipping and swashbuckling,”

“I’ve been amazed at how willing the Muse is to squeeze into a new mother’s chaotic schedule. There’s no time to sit around waiting for her arrival.”

“I would like my art at its core to be a statement of faith: faith in my own artistic impulses and faith in the capacity of humans to honor expressed creativity.”

Ex-Sleazy-Nasties

Poetry by Robert Lamirande

The dashboard thermostat hits 101°,
and while this heat wave is nothing new,
lately it’s got people talking. For instance,
when I brush my teeth, my gums won’t stop bleeding;

Little Red’s Ride

Poetry by Kate Durbin

Spring-stink, the world heaves with lust.
Mother sniffs sex from the kitchen window:

Woodsmen stripping trees,
Housewives mounting stallions.

Ferns

A poem by Cara Dorris

School taught you they’re sad plants,
the only tissued ones
to never seed or flower,
never bloom.

Rooming with Your Bones

A poem by Heather Gustine

When they asked at the post office what you wanted
with a skeleton, you said you were studying
the human form. When they said, What?
The girlfriend’s not enough? you laughed,
and now request that I take care of it

Obsequies

Poetry by Joseph Kampff . . . who (while the band-a discourse community-dawdles) attends the whispers and the screams-sonorous harmonic discordances of the Silvertone* . . .] (. . .) [It’s obvious what’s going on here1.] “Omnia mutantur, nos et…

Poems by Lisa McCool-Grime

Are You Kidding Me? Are You Kidding Me:

from BBC interviews with the Westboro Baptist
Church members under the ministry of Fred Phelps

The ultimate smash-mouth in-your-face insult
to God Almighty. He can’t help but lie about the scripture
every time he opens his mouth. No tears for queers.
Not one word falls to the ground, not one of them

2 Poems by Krystal Languell

from 56 Etymologies

(4)

A process occurs when you give up your language and start calling things by new names but there is not a term for how new phrases infiltrate your reflex it starts with the gutturals

Personal growth

Poetry by Rick Hale

It began with a lemon tree.
I broke its pot and put it outside
right next to my house.

A whole jungle lunged up around it.

I used to be able to recognize it
in the jaguar shade of the tree line.