Poetry
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On Anger in America
Aubrey Phoenix During my step workI was met with a question about anger… Oh, I know anger. I always used to say“I’m not an angry person”Despite the injustices I have suffered. I didn’t let myself feel angerUntil I realized that I had every right to be angry. Until the man I lovedUsed me for sex. Continue reading
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Emerging from the Penumbra
Merril D. Smith In scant light, slant light, shadows strollabove the bones unseen,remains of scattered, shattered lives,Glory, Hallelujah, we used to sing. Was this then, or is this now?The truth is marching on–torn, twisted, and trampledin scant, slant light as shadows stroll, as masked men menace, muscled maraudersfrom obscurity troll in the scant, slant light Continue reading
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Learning about Nazis in High School
Bartholomew Barker Reading my history texts, I imaginedwhat I would’ve done if I’d livedin Germany during the War. How I would’ve resisted, hidden Jewsin my basement, risked my life,my freedom to foil the fascists. But having grown-up and fat,I sign petitions, write lettersto the editor and merely vote. I don’t think I could fit a Continue reading
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What We Tend
Meridith Allison The long and short of it is,I’d rather not be listening to a podcastabout how democracies dieas I pull weeds on a Saturday morningwhile the American flag on my neighbor’s porchflaps loudly in the wind. But this much I know: summer remembers both the gardenerand the absence of one. The long and short of it Continue reading
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Keep Going
Rachel Armes-McLaughlin Small twigs on the pavementlook like so many tiny bones—phalanges and miniature fibulae. Underfoot, they roll, still freshenough that they do not crack.There is a me-sized bowl in the earth ahead near the creek—a womb-like hollow that Idesperately long to crawl inside. I keep going, keenly aware thatso many others walk with mein Continue reading
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Untitled
Kate Bremer What year is it? Sunday?What’s the donkey’s name;Why is she wearing orange slippers?Draw a Kit Kat Klock–her Krazy eyesAnd rigid plastic tail are mine. Drinking water, Meals on Wheels;I won’t write about killing children(or adults) in GazaUkraine, Salvador. FirstThey took the Venezuelans.Can you pass a Medicare testIf you are steeped in conspiracy–A member Continue reading
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Echoes
Patricia J McLean I’m at the edge of a cliff looking over,looking over at the cracks in the rock onthe other side. I’m at the cliff edgewhere time stretches, arcs back-forward,ages stacked on ages bent, arched,tilted, earth colors, life, death, beginning, end. I’m at the edge of the cliff. I imagine I can seethe other Continue reading
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say what you mean
another nonetMatthew E. Henry an affirmative action hirea multicultural hirea diversity hirean equity hirea DEI… justbe honest and call me anigger,please. Matthew E. Henry (MEH) is the author of six poetry collections, most recently said the Frog to the scorpion (Harbor Editions, 2024). He is editor-in-chief of The Weight Journal, the creative nonfiction editor at Porcupine Literary, and an associate editor Continue reading
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Indigenous People’s Night
Chad Parenteau Auto shop stays opento grill burgers amongthe unfinished labor. Radio on Latin beatshope’s fast drums speedpassersby away quickly. All feel indigenoussomewhere. Anyonecould be a colonist who wants to settleboth feet on our backslike branding irons. Above, moon seeksasylum in clouds, fearsbeing discovered again. Chad Parenteau hosts Boston’s long-running Stone Soup Poetry series. His work Continue reading
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Tinder
Andrew Frewin Wilson “It needn’t be tinder, this juncture of the year”—Conor O’Callaghan, January Drought I – Hand-wringing… Tinseltown they called itThe Hollywood sign above itOn mountain and canyons coveredWith scrub like gasoline tinderRich palaces of dreams renderedTo which many young locusts aspiredBut Santa Anna winds have burnedThose houses to naught but ashChimneys only gravestones Continue reading
The Chaos Section Poetry Project 