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Malu Cycles/瑪璐循環
By Maxine Hong Kingston
Translated By Chun Yu
I pay.
In dream: Susie’s medical bill.
For real: Moana bar tab.

我付款。
夢中：蘇西的醫療費。
現實：莫阿娜酒吧賬。

Time I write …
Untitled/無題
By John Whalen-Bridge
Translated By Chun Yu
The words of children
splash in grandmother’s mind
and ripple to now.

孩子的話兒
在祖母心中濺起
蕩漾至今。
Deus ex Machina: A Ghazal
By Mag Gabbert
A teacher once said chaos touches everyone, so that became my refrain.
Did we want to lose all we had…
Easter Morning
By Andrew Frisardi
PRIMEAt dawn, the shapes of cypresses in fog
Were fingers pointing up from graves, as if what's born…
How to Wheel
By Karl Knights
The zoo is tough terrain; hilly.
I wheel as fast as I can —
then Mum shouts ‘Keep up!’
I stop. ‘Hand me…
Leda and the Swan
By William Butler Yeats
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her...
Ceasefire Haiku
By Faisal Mohyuddin
All night, the somber
Song of chimes. The winter wind
Grieves for Gaza too.

____

Rage:
the broken
heart

of …
Ultimately Everything Becomes Boring
By Sri Chinmoy
Ultimately everything
Becomes boring.
Even great miracles
Become boring.
Even the tremendous powers of…
A river slips
By Cole Swensen
a river slips
in shifting leaves
sifting. a river sifts
and falls to pieces
in which not seen
...
XLIX. ("its a secrete")
By Jos Charles
its a secrete

the grls speeching mye hole /

inn 2 the lindens / wee go out

& playe footballe / verie nashenallie

how wee leeve a stall / piteus

wen the grls

speech me /

this is how u make a porno / ...
Bollywood Confabulation
By Rajiv Mohabir
Look at your feet, so beautiful. Do
not step on the ground, filth will smear them;

your future will fill with pricks. He with a
fearful heart, understand dead. Death will dance

on your head — lift your eyes and see. I am
its servant,...
Llanto por Ignacio Sánchez Mejías
By Federico García Lorca
1.
La cogida y la muerte

A las cinco de la tarde.
Eran las cinco en punto de la tarde.
Un niño trajo la blanca sábana
a las cinco de la tarde.
Una espuerta de cal ya prevenida
a las cinco de la tarde.
Lo demás era muerte...
I WANT SKY
By Bazeed
In the hiding
hour of autophagy
ghosts hang out all day and talk to us.
An archival haunting demanding tribute:
half a lime for breakfast every day.
بشرٌ يئنّونَ من الألمِ
human voices keening in pain
تُشعلُ أجسادَهُمَ النارُ
their bodies, consumed by fire
light up the...
Wundrkut Forever Ghazal
By Hari Alluri
Where are you now? Must we say farewell tonight? So many of us wonder.
God sobs in my arms, a wounded gazelle tonight. They stay for wonder.

Up in a pot of rice, up from a human zoo. Twisting, sleeping heads of...
- Verse Forms
- Ghazal
My Hair Burned Like Berenice
By Ruth Awad
Days of rain. The drey outside my window would keel
and the wind would plunder. My heart was valent
with possibility: I could be anyone now, half woman,
half asterism. Fragmental as a new year. Patron saint
of the rutilant and cindering. I could...
Post Truth
By David Tait
A week of autumn snow, and today the sun,
the buildings fizzy with melting, the beggar
draping his sheets over the bank's homeless-spikes.

My daughter runs under the sycamore trees,
shouts look it’s still snowing, it’s still snowing,
clumps of old snow falling around her.

Who...
Autumn Testament #12
By James K. Baxter
The wish to climb a ladder to the loft
Of God dies hard in us. The angels Jacob saw

Were not himself. Bramble is what grows best
Out of this man-scarred earth, and I don’t chop it back

Till the fruit have ripened. Yesterday I...
Fourth Wall Arpeggio
By A. Van Jordan
Lately, my friends ask me, out of love,
have I written about my mother,
who suffers under the storm of Alzheimer’s disease,
and I tell them, “I don’t write about my family,
never directly, at least.” To write this poem seems so

out of character...
“if” is a conjunction
By Kimiko Hahn
if there is a river
more beautiful than this
bright as the blood
red edge of the moon if
i can conjure such
radiance and safety
as expressed shelter
then my task as woman
will be quenched.

yes, moon, yes, calendar
if there is a river
that will cleanse
my generous
innermost abyss,
then...
- Verse Forms
Elizabeth’s Cabeza
By Kimiko Hahn
But how could Arthur go,
clutching his tiny lily,
with his eyes shut up so tight
and the roads deep in snow?
I don’t know how Arthur could go
with just a lily, no parka or boots.
Elizabeth’s question would follow
over the years, even after she’d...
- Verse Forms

Quick Tags

poetry-magazineMalu Cycles/瑪璐循環

poetry-magazineUntitled/無題

poetry-magazineDeus ex Machina: A Ghazal

poetry-magazineCeasefire Haiku

poetry-magazineWundrkut Forever Ghazal

poetry-magazineMy Hair Burned Like Berenice

poetry-magazineFourth Wall Arpeggio

poetry-magazine“if” is a conjunction

poetry-magazineElizabeth’s Cabeza

Malu Cycles/瑪璐循環

Untitled/無題

Deus ex Machina: A Ghazal

Ceasefire Haiku

Wundrkut Forever Ghazal

My Hair Burned Like Berenice

Fourth Wall Arpeggio

“if” is a conjunction

Elizabeth’s Cabeza