Migraine Without Aura
byDeborah Bogen is surreal, gruesome, and oozing with angst in this impeccable glimpse into personal struggle.
POETRY
Prague Baroque
byPatrick Deely’s meticulous description of Prague, the capital of Bohemia, as it casts its Babylonian—as he has it in Prague Baroque—“Gross statues of saints spear demons which look reptilian” with the grotesque and scenes of European decay seeking repentance.
Faux-jour
byAnn Power’s magical cascade into the psychology of desire is undoubtedly worth a read. This poem punches home with the razzle-dazzle, and keeps the reader guessing the whole way through. Power is Glück after a line of pixie dust, and that is a steep compliment, though one I administer whole heartedly.
Notes from the Last to Leave
byFrederick Pollack’s subdued verse ambles through the corridors of his memory, questioning and recounting with a voice that stiffens against its cracks and confesses with a soldierly poise. His work rejects all melodrama, and is a fantastically refreshing read.
Six Weeks into Chemotherapy
byLaura Paul Watson’s Six Weeks into Chemotherapy peers into the cruel reality the poet wishes to recover. Tired of the false pity, she laments the loss of her lesser human struggles, and the faux compassion so often paired with sickness. This poem subverts expectations, and speaks for itself far better than any praise.
The Case for Punctuation
byMurray Silverstein’s Ars Punctuationa offers far more than a grammar lesson. If syntax were a religion, this would be its gospel.
Poets Against AI
byPoets Against AI is a movement to abolish the use of AI in poetry, and for poets, editors, and publishers have transparency when AI is employed to create content. Pledge not to use AI in poetry by contacting Poets Against AI.
POETS AGAINST AI | ET AL.
Home
bySamantha Padgett’s portrait of paternal neglect is as heart-rending as it is inventive. The suburban pastoral contrasted with domestic distress has always made for great verse, but Padgett builds upon the tradition with her horrific eloquence. A poem’s greatest compliment shall always be another poet’s envy, and one cannot help coveting Padgett’s talents.
If It Comes to the Relevant Glyphs in the Papyrus
byAmy Beeder’s secret recipe makes for fantastic poetry. She manages to address a subject that has been so wrongly politicized, and does so in a manner that completely avoids politicization. Such tact is rare among modern poets, but as Beeder demonstrates, there is still hope.
a poorly dressed pantomime
byFrankie bb’s surrealist scene recalls the prose poetry of Charles Simic, except the former does not neglect the “poetry” in “prose poetry”. With his intoxicating rhythm, and his whimsical and sometimes frightening imagery, he is definitely a poet to keep your eye on.
My Plenty Mouth
byAmanda Rachel Robins My Plenty Mouth leaves no reader going hungry. The poem sees her vast imagination captured in succinct verse, and in each of her candid confessions lurks an uneasy restraint.
Abyss After Tea
byLana Hechtman Ayers writes with an edge that is as sharp as her imagery. Abyss After Tea contains what is perhaps my favorite metaphor of the year, though this poem is no one line wonder. It enthralls throughout its entirety, and leaves the reader reeling in the destructive wake of history.
Apex Predator
byReflexive and raw, Natalie E. Illum tears out her throat and lets the wounds speak. Her verse smiles up from the depths and ambushes the reader from below, blurring the lines between poem and death threat with a voice that lusts for blood.
The Woods in November of a Difficult Year
byGinny Lowe Conners captures pandemic era chaos in the most unusual of settings; the woods. Yet this tranquil place is perfect for displaying the personal struggles that plagued our nation in a year of plague, divisive politics, and civil unrest. No, this is not a “pandemic poem”, this is a whisper of the human experience, a heart grappling with a world of mayhem.
Dream Field, Wednesday Hill Road
byLarkin Warren peers into a life ripped from its foundations and forces the reader to take part in the exodus. This poem is a triumph, and well worth the read.