I Scorch Myself On Your Name. 4

by prasanna

Her hand atop yours, and on the inside, you are...
at daybreak no less, you could not part. You did...

Unnamed 3

by prasanna

I want to share the sunset with you, I don’t...
reduced to slivers of photographs and pixels...

Grey Is A Colour Too. 2

by prasanna

Maybe forgetting is first, and death comes...
because we gave it meaning by connecting the...

Rippling Of The Sky 2

by prasanna

I come bearing fruit from the northern isles—you...
and wonder which flesh is sweeter, more tender...

Winter In The Alpines 2

by prasanna

In a language of lament and mourning—poetry...
verses like ’stranded among the living/called...

The Nature of Beauty 1

by BOB GALLO

Fragrances are the decalcomania of elegant flowers...
Butterflies are the flowers decalcomania in...

Bookstore 5

by Kate

I went into the bookstore today.
You know the one...

Sweet Like Mambazha Puttu (1) 2 WIN

by prasanna

of light, of love—twined together by the...
of time, there is little to be said, little to be...

April Corollary 3

by prasanna

Sorrow espaliered across the width of my...
manages to cast light on it. I suppose that...

Mortification 3

by prasanna

The body is a river of grief, and at its mouth—a...
you learn quickly that speaking about the wounds...

Double Yolk 5

by prasanna

Home insisted on grief—an overabundance of never...
consisting of too little, reduced to living in...

The Wound 3

by BOB GALLO

Maybe you see it in your subconscious
the wound that more or less we all share...