We live on a graveyard arrowhead
where the Gullah battle haints and hags
and spirits of indigenous tribes
hover to claim what is theirs.
Four Poems by Len Lawson
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Four poems by Terese Svoboda
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The old comedienne moves her mouth, she does her stretches, her deadpan- without-so-much-as-a-twitch, and she times it. [It’s all about timing]. Old means she’s timed a lot [she may have timed out]. She always wakes early with perfectly useable patter that doesn’t have a story behind it. An existential joke, tailless they call it in the business.
Four poems by Kathrin Bach
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I wake up at five in the morning /
because there is a rope moving up my neck /
an eel that swims up to my father and back again /
in the bathroom mirror my eyes are his /
Four poems by Jeffrey Cyphers Wright
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TILT
TV anchors gab about binge-
watching, riots, and tattoos.
The machine has a boo boo.
We are in some deep doo doo.
Blue jays peck red berries,
91 degrees and I am a sap.
Jupiter’s ma pushes old news:
It’s more fun with someone.
Okay, steeple chaser, let’s see
your stuff. Here’s a hot ticket
for the...
Three poems by Seda Suna Uçakan
T
Travelers of musk
think the silence when you are silent!
think by tearing, splitting the tissues down
now I am still I am
deprived of your eyes, turn down
with going by the fade skin
it is the mystery of word
was that frightening wall built
by raising from the base
...
Four poems by Cihan Yurdaün
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Afreet Son
soars high blistering
wings stitched with wax
melt
into liquid ache
her
arctic touch is the wind
the inevitable plunge to gin
induced reveries
the scorching sins
born, burnt and belied
in the hollow mind
of a-freed flight
pure sorcery is love
xxx
Dangling...
Two Poems by Gonca Özmen
T
SUPPOSE IT IS
I’m quite blurry. Suppose it’s Thames.
Suppose my mind diminishes in front of a naked woman
Suppose I’m running among llamas
Suppose my legs got longer wrapped around history
Suppose I found myself speaking a bleary language this morning
Suppose there are two swirls on red carpets I cannot choose which one to fall onto
Suppose I called you in the middle...
Sites of Consecrated Potentials
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By Murat Nemet-Nejat
“THINGS ARE SITES OF CONSECRATED POTENTIALS.” — GILLES DELEUZE
“Ideas are consecrated potentials in concrete form.”
I.
Paranoia’s Infinity
Dying, I’ll not happen.
II...
I knew it as such
I
By İlhan Sami Çomak
From Hymns Written by Cats
The dark side of the mountains
was a color jealous of blue, I knew it as such.
Like a clumsy rock, I split the air into two
I whistled
I liken whistling to horses.
With a slice of bread whose surface gives meaning to heat
Among all kinds of smells
the breath of silence breaks the waves
at the...
Two poems by İlhan Sami Çomak
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It’s for this reason
It’s for this reason I slashed my face.
By placing the resonance of a letter
in the space between us and the sun.
“Laugh!” I said to rebellion’s tired face.
“I’m reconciled with this matter, now.”
You know, like drawing a sketch and then staring,
asking, is it an apple, apricot, pear?
Saying, it’s a plum! in that tone that’s...
Two Poems by Caroline Stockford
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Walk like an Ephesian
I used to hang out at the House of Love
its signage a heart in marble, a foot
for direction. Once there,
mosaics of the seasons.
I’d sit on windowsill empty of glass, house
vacant of senators. Listening
to tour guides’ musical schpiel
telling how leading lights
of this house of love
sallied forth to front
the annual...
Night Terrors
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By Sevda Akyuz
almost but not quite
sounds like an apt
description of all things I
went through
under and above
in and out
up and down
but mostly down
mossy stone
by the...