Beneath the Darkness She walks the tree-lined evening way, scattering spectres of the past subordinated to her command. The animals...

The period from November until January poem for Maria Berry is deer season. which means. it’s time. to dress up. as buildings and hide...

the deadly mixture of green and black bile swamped the poor ailing liver in dark humours doing the damage bringing fear and death it was...

Juncture Paper napkins over water glasses, scarf-draped lamp hey presto flourish, quick wrist-reveal: a cage of birds that start to sing...

My Love Is Like A Little Blue Lada My love is like a little blue Lada packed to the ceiling with melons pressed against the windows and...

Clouds surround Aragats peaks as we ride in a shared taxi to Gyumri. She watches the grays slither rock to rock, plume like apricots,...

Downtown I found a handwritten sign: Have You Been Having Unusual Dreams? There was a number to call. That was all. I think I saw it...

I ONLY WANT HIM WHEN HE SMELLS LIKE WHISKEY & CAMELS When he's just steel plucked new calluses into his fingers. I want to jar every...

FUCKIN SUNSHOWERS We were drinkin beers And eatin five-buck rib half-racks At the bar down the street Paddy Mack’s in Chicago Our...

The morning rises every morning. I dream my head bleeding. I don’t know why. When I wake up, I dress my eyes in Gucci and coat my throat...

You wanted to be top dog. Now you’re in over your head. You feel like you’re herding cats. All those blind spots can be a bitch. The...

I was preparing for talk about the weather, small town updates, I miss you too’s while following ghosts around grey-clad slabs of...

The cut lines my wrist like a port-wine stain; turning into bluets with the warring sun. The kitchen tile clings to my skin with the...

1972 Did you know that in the summer of 1972 I ran the merry-go-round in Springbank Park and am really not too sure how I did not run it...

three blocks I said I wanted to get away So you drove me Right into The lake You said we could go camping But we never did So I wrote 100...

Shaken from my sleep by yellow taxi dreams; toothpaste is my cork, stopping the wine from sloshing around the great caboose that is I,...

Traces The moon is a burnt orange goddess traversing the quay. Beads of rain arrive as shooting stars down a misty window on the...

I want to be a person who calls to the ocean Howls at it, really And hears a roar in response A crest, an invitation to dive into a...

When I think of you I am afraid I think of you Kinder than you were. What about you did I invent? Remembering you wrong feels like some...

Chicken Plant The line chief brags of smelling girls on the rag Thursday he says he dreams of eating me I don’t tell him my dream— hooks...