Poetry of the Non-Prose Kind

The Last City that Went Underwater

Lana Bella

alone, now, you rose up,
held in humus milk,
caterwauled to the cacophony
of fluid strewn with silage—
with a coronet of frozen dark
and sequined stars held to
your head perched low,
Blue pickerel weeds snarled
glossy leaves into your hands,
caught in the swath of dragonflies
and great crested newts—
an almost brooding sound,
less wind-swayed in its journey
around the mist-rinsed pond,
bayed a rustle fainter than earth
over your skin: a pelt of wiggles-
suckled, algae surfaced, delicate light
hatched in tapestry of perennial
sandy loam, gilded with bare bones
of your city that went underwater—

At the End of the Last Glacial Period

Eric Pankey

A herd flees,
  fords the river’s sun-bright passage—
A white incised line follows a bone burin—

To accentuate the counterpoint,
 a sudden turn to adagio—
A gesture preserved, a gesture alive in the act of making a mark—

Tachycardia

Robert Hamilton

Every father is
at some point
Saul with a fist
full of javelins.

Both of you stop this.
Stop hitting yourselves
with tennis rackets.

A vacuum balloons in
my chest. Presented with pricks, I
kick. A pilum lets fly,
skids on concrete in a comet
of sparks. My autoharp falls
dumb. Outside, meteors, metaphors.

Machine as Ghost

Robert Hamilton

Each fallen god looms larger just as
the windmill blade on a flatbed seems

taller than the windmill and the bough
the gale cracked off, wet and black on the

ground, is tree enough and more and
the Ding an Sich is not for you; you get

only one of its narrow dendrites, filament-thin,
reaching high, hungry for signal.

Chapter Fourteen: Follow Here

Phoebe Reeves

All things are under the wings of doubt—
cattle and the fruits of the earth,
 men and women,

the menstrual flux, the flow of milk
and infirmity.
 Between her legs,

with her hands, she summons her health
as if it were flowing from the knife,
 alone without

the foundation of loss.
 Some men came to a stream.
One of them took off his clothes

and went into the stream
and tasted it and declared that it was true.

Without words, action is secret.
Out of the water,
 the man’s hand suddenly burned.

Under the threshold of the door,
 the bones of a name said
I have my own hands, and a little hole,

unknown to touch or look.
 I have seen the fields, the air,
and been within the year to prove this.

Make Wings

Monica Rico

They shit too much,
the swallows nest
above the mail box
with black eyeliner
or wings on the eyes
of Elizabeth Taylor
who would be jealous
of their blue brilliant as a
bought jewel from the
mouth of Richard Burton.

They strike in dips
and ignore the beautiful
women who catch them
and use their forked
tails to pencil in eyebrows.

spice

Ferral Willcox

hiked skirt, alert
atoll, coral lace bleached to pieces
blasted to patches of cover, duck
under the fabric of safe damask
hidden features of the past
spiked earth coerced
from circle to interrupted girth,
fetish of flash, of fried fish
spurted to Piscean heights
shattering glass,
ceilings of an active sex
dispersed. She was a pretty young thing,
the earth.


Familia Crest

Rose Knapp

One   Medieval value
Papal   Borges Loyalty
Submit Two Prince Jon
Pre printing press Brut
Of course   of coarse
Finally fallacio   is free
From bastards &fallacy

To Burn the Night

Christopher Morgan

from “Two Young Lovers”

It takes
rest

This   all day
low point

ignore the hate
he paid for it

the money   extravagant
his language

I   see
the man
and walk
down   toward   him.

I have
come back
to burn the   night

the work
won’t be safe for
the children

I’m sorry   Listen.
this mess is
the only home I’ve ever had

[view original erasure]

A Sharp Startle

Christopher Morgan

from “The Pink Lady”

distinct   the feeling
I could neither move nor speak

he was gone.

I had   fallen silent
as if
That night
had actually happened.

I stood out
bare

my experience,
a sharp   startle

he   terrified that
home.

My   experience   was
a sensation of being followed
at night

My
mother experienced this many times
It became   common for each of us

[view original erasure]

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