Poetry

Poetry,Winter 2018

Four Poems

Dayna Patterson

Self-Portrait as Jessica with Phoropter and Ursa Minor

I.

It was like following a map
that line by line erased itself
until one day it showed blank.

It was a compass that failed
a little more by the month
till it simply spun circles.

It was a daily change of glasses
fluctuating strength
so that vision fishbowled.

North Star, I could not find.
It dissipated, dissolved,
white heat into day’s white,
in blankness left me blind.

II.

If I had left …

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Blog,Creative Work

“woman & water” | “fragility” | by Ariel Galvez

by Ariel Galvez

Woman & Water

What is it like
To be a woman?
Is it a bare desert?
Empty, the sand the only thing you have
To offer
Watch as it slips through your hands
Like water

Or is to be a woman to be like water?
To be the wilderness of
Rivers and oceans
Wet.

Hemingway notes “la mar”
The feminization or,
Demasculization of language
To show
The wild

Are you a sea that is well-behaved?
Calm but breezy
Helpful and sunny
Mermaids and venus
Have risen …

/ Read ›

Uncategorized

“woman & water” | “fragility” | by Ariel Galvez

by Ariel Galvez

Woman & Water

What is it like
To be a woman?
Is it a bare desert?
Empty, the sand the only thing you have
To offer
Watch as it slips through your hands
Like water

Or is to be a woman to be like water?
To be the wilderness of
Rivers and oceans
Wet.

Hemingway notes “la mar”
The feminization or,
Demasculization of language
To show
The wild

Are you a sea that is well-behaved?
Calm but breezy
Helpful and sunny
Mermaids and venus
Have risen …

/ Read ›

Fall 2017,Poetry

Two Poems

Shikha Malaviya

THEY SAY THE (MUSLIM) BAN IS TEMPORARY

But I’ve decorated my home, she says
And what if they make us leave?
I know it sounds silly, but each painting
I’ve chosen with such care
See this one? It’s of a castle
from a street artist in Salzburg
and my green leather couch, made in Italy
has the shape of my bottom on the leftmost cushion
and my kilim rug from Turkey,
after we bargained for …

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Blog,Reviews

Review of Sandra Lim’s The Wilderness

Madeleine Wattenberg

Though Lim engages heavily in an existential insistence of death, her poems often sharply turn, as though almost on accident, to a life-affirming image. She returns to the motif of a beating heart in several poems—an image that centralizes the self as at least part material body.

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