By Dorothea Lasky
In every rose there is the scent of death
I thought I was one of them
But I’m not and I’ve never been
Who…
I thought I was one of them
But I’m not and I’ve never been
Who…
Explore Poems: Anxiety & Insecurity
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- By Lauren RussellHammock dumping
you onto bruised
grasses, frayed
thoughts droop
sideways, hammering
morning. Slipper-
footed… - By Jamie Natonabah
- By William ShakespeareYou do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended… - By Meredith StrickerI was thinking of some of the messages Rilke will never receive: — dentist called abt your appt tomorrow…
- By H.D.Or is it a great tide that covers the rock-pool
so that it and the rock are indistinguishable
from the… - By Afrizal MalnaTranslated By Daniel OwenWORKSHOP 5: MY CAPTIVE
its voice’s echo comes back to make a sound wall
of its voice
standing in a circle
in front of a globe full of time traps
fingers that clutch a rat - By Afrizal MalnaWORKSHOP 5: TAWANAN AKU
gema suaranya kembali lagi membuat dinding bunyi
dari suaranya
berdiri melingkar
di depan bulatan penuh perangkap waktu
jari-jari yang menggenggam tikus - By Zach CzaiaOpen your mouth. Your tongue,
put it out. Let it wait.
Let it wait till it is
dry and cool. Let it wait… - By Sarah CarsonThe last man here wanted
what could not be taken: My girl, he'd say,
my baby. The narrow of his eyes… - By Adrian Matejkabecause of want & tumble?
Because of word crumbles in the kitchen’s halogen?
No. Separate bedrooms for… - By Anastasia Taylor-Lindv.
Isn’t it dangerous to be a woman? Surrounded by men, questions
about risk-taking, parenting (I’m childless… - By Nick FlynnSaint Augustine preached humility &
the need to simply be on the ground.
Do you wish to rise? he asked… - By Maggie QueeneyThe look I am hunting: the one
that through color and cut glares the starer into a skull or a skein
of… - By Maggie QueeneyA corruption of grammar—what knowledge
I have come by comes through the eyes To my hands—lightning runs… - By Blas FalconerIn Francisco Oller’s El Velorio, a child lies
on a table as if sleeping. It is covered in lace
and blossoms… - By Sheila MaldonadoI’m from the
monitor in
the middle of
the Americas
I am a monitor
in the middle
of the Americas
I monitor… - By Diannely AntiguaWhy else would she lift her shirt every night
to show the world her one milky
breast? My sister says… - By Liz HowardAmid moonscape railings
cognition drained its basinone brother was born
on land black from the mineall… - By Norman DubieIf only it were just a lousy herb
That issued feeble tendrils slowly, now and then
Relinquishing some …