by Kara Knickerbocker
& if you had a map out of your body, where would it go?
What is the point of exit you’d choose to leave yourself?
I’d choose the wounds already claimed:
the fried egg-shaped scar burned above my left knee,
“Over time, I realized as I found my native language of expression, it led to poetry … and once I had that freedom in sign language, it led to so much more.” — Douglas Ridloff
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by Lisa Brunner
Today on the morning commute, I decided that my soul could use a little Bernstein. Not decided. That’s too weak. Craved. The way I craved my coffee — a craving that doesn’t release until I burn my fingers on the mug. …
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by Dagny Felker
“The future can wait until next week I’m busy now burning/ the candle at both ends/ or should I say spluttering/ or should I say biting the wick”
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“the protein slapped inside thin elastic pink tracts/ a forgotten closet in her skin tucked into flesh/ in every organ cancerous/ her fetal cells wait/ her skin behind her breast scratched ribs”
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by Michael Simms
“When the young man wearing a yarmulke/ Asks Excuse me sir are you Jewish?/ I want to say yes/ I’ve studied history and know/ Something about suffering,/ But that’s not what he means.”
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by Mehrnaz Tiv
“She flows like petals, just as soft and as sweet,/Drowning these western slopes in lush tonics of springtime./June she blooms, then in august she glows./ The pittsburgh sun sticks like jasmine honey.”
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