poetry

Astynome, After, by Mike Allen

The Fates persist in fractal layers,the tapestry they weave spreads fingers, grips skeinsthe work itself a weaver,that winds yet another copythrough the warp, piling colorsuntil the shuttle gives riseto coils of minute artisans, who wind the reverse sidesof countless lives until the scene that draws me out arrives, threading stone and flesh, kings, priests and …

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Psychopomp, by MJ Cunniff

The amount of architecture requiredto ferry the dead must be momentous: train tracks of finely wrought silver runacross the shores by the black rivers, shuddering near each otherwith calculated blasts of power. Over the gray dust speed the carsof the dead; on the far bank she stands and cries where are you, far from the …

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Paalai Anju, by Shweta Narayan

1. I’ve keened, cracked dryas riverbeds before rain, heart pressedto cactus thorns till flowers bloomed brightas the dancer’s painted hands, and youcalled me exotic. Who then stole this voice? 2. If I dig into dry earth, ember-studded, callingthe red-mouthed mother to swallow me,if I climb nanofibers out past this sea of smoke,fall thin-aired into orbit, …

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Later the Loch, Sooner the Lack: The Lifecycle of a Horrid Man with Horrid Plans, by s.j. bagley

-.egg.- lapsarianism, or something like it, come to town, this town, that town, on the whisper of the morning’s mournings. . -.larva.- we cannot repent nor repeal and release ratify and rectify what we cannot regret, no matter whose door is darkened, face bruised by blacklight. . -.first instar.- he could remember his mother, or …

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