Month: December 2025
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they’re demolishing the old hospitalby my place this morningcentury old outer walls scooped outpipes up into air,wires mangled connectingnothing to nothingbreeze shivering puddles lyricalbuilding’s insides open to lightbroken apart is dollhousecomic stripno historyno part of usthat cannotcome openthis way — From Issue 28 of Ludd Gang — By Gray Harper…
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The night ends. The choices evaporate. There is a process through which a fixed percentage of us can be clearly distinguished. It involves oscillating between plant & stone. Branch & invertebrate. Chitid & lichen. Algae. Three of the saddest words in the dictionary. All of us speak in generalities now.…
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She gave me water she gave me a cup Of wormy dirt she gave me the movementOf thunder without guile The corpse the fable the innocent Dark earth crossed & re-crossed & my own wordsReturned to me then like my face reflected Cleanly in a pool of still blood. I…
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after Sommer Browning My father wants to know if we’re “pay pals.” My father calls me on his birthday and says, “It’s my birthday.” My father keeps a shoebox of greeting cards in his closet, pre-signed and “ready for anything.” My father tells my fiancé he’ll stop sending me Valentine’s…
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In memoriam meaning: Make a wax body. Cover your body in clay. Heat. Make a clay body. Cover in wax. More clay. Heat. The bronze goes in the empty parts. The wax drains into a ghost world, formless. The clay can do two things: become a kind of printer, making copies, or crack apart, go into dust. It…
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There are many forms of the presenttense. I can say, I am at the baths, on the phonewith my father, and my father knows I am at the baths. Whereas, I can say, in writing:I am at the baths, and the reader might suspectthat the present tense is substituting for…
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PSALM 6By Sam Bailey Into the end. Into a lot of songs. For the octave. A Psalm for David: Lord, please don’t arguein Your fury, and don’t, in Your craziness,light me up. Feel sorry for me, Lord. I aminfirm. Cure me, resetme, Lord, my bones have all been confused.And my breath’s been a…
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Night has many weird angles.I look out at the endless,embarrassing pointiness.Its peaks are paper mouthslicking blue bells in the bulbs.Meaning: light, a daffodil.All suffering is funnelled. Hold a cone up to your heaving life.Turn away your horse.Must I think of every little thing?Remember me like a mirror. — From Issue…
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It shorts the whitetteIf bricks of still wet raw earth with straw Even summer appears to part from the landscape The expression “my voice follows yours” refers to door to riverEach day flows fromThe humid inversion of history without perspectiveFalling toward something palpable that comes to tip the momentLike a bark of beesColor…
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Pulled from dark stars. Armoredluck, hot with breath. My first planet is a heartbeat; my secondis dimmer and of the dead. My attachment to the world is a knife floatingabove my forehead and it’s how I make my way. Dramatic taproot! I am my own rider and this knifepoints only…
Poetry Nightly 