In Babel Years   many hands  not the lightest of work  but side-by-side  group project  all in this together  pulley and lever  garden...

How to Murder a Mule Beat a tree with whatever you can find—an old bat, a torque wrench, your fists—until you match  the rhythm of her...

FOR WANDA A packet of hair rollers thrown from the window of a moving car. A pretty yellow top; a headband of plastic flowers. The...

She carries wet berries in reusable bags.  Along our block the trees burst  with confessions. Dusk like a knife  sinking into my gut. Her...

Mrityunjay Mohan is a queer, trans, disabled writer of color. Mrityunjay's work has been published or is forthcoming in Broadkill...

resurrection as a verb for love i love you because you let me kneed jojoba paste on top of the dead skin around your ankles. i turned...

I swam because my mother  liked to watch me win. I was a tomboy, broad-shouldered and bulldog-low  to the ground. Before each meet,  I...

Worm Moon She sees the moon as her own retina. Galaxies are her eyes. She wakes with a coyote claw whipping into her mouth. Wind cannot...

After Jose Hernandez Diaz The man in the Metallica t-shirt always has a drumming sensation within him. It comes up before he can open his...

Note: these poems are published as image files to maintain line break consistency on a mobile device Noah Sparrow is a...

Everything in this world is a door marked exit, every slack-jawed wave, every storm-riven branch still caught in the crown. My mother...

NOTE: These poems are part of a project on the wives of Pancho Villa. His wife, Luz Corral, was considered his “main” wife. Banquet of...

My stick figure is nothing but a gussied up sodbuster. And me, deranged in the disturbed pools of your eyes.  Fuck this Still a shitty...

puella aeterna I looked just like Sleeping Beauty laying still and narrow on the tray when the doctors dissected my ovaries then...

Eleanor Eichenbaum is a writer and artist based in Florida. She holds an MFA from Image Text Ithaca and has been honored to attend...

Raspberry Sonnet (To My Butch, i.) Cream cheese on raisin bagels dill and thyme Cinnamon sugar apples peeled and sliced Tooth-slivered...

Bruce and Mavis, Mavis and Bruce. They blow through my hair like the Holy Spirit. Our double helixes have never danced, but they are...

It was nearly 7pm. I stood at the drop-off counter at the pharmacy as I waited for help from the man behind the counter. People walked...

sipèstisyon If people say your child is beautiful, your child will become ugly. ok, i confess. once, i said fuck you to danny perkins on...

I feel compelled to pick up the baby bird that has died just outside my doorstep this morning. Place her in my hand and rub her toothpick...