Poem of the Day
Study of Children
By Asha Futterman
did you know
that you all work for me?
I asked them as a joke
Poetry: J-L
Of the Remembered
By David St. John
I.
I will tell you. Maybe
You’re leaning in the open
Doorway of some Irish bar,
The Park
By David St. John
It was I think in a small town in Ohio
I taped to the wall above my office desk the postcard
Of Klimt's painting called The Park
Lament of the Driven Nail
By Thomas Johnson
Because of one blow
I have entered the celibacy
Of silence
Lumière’s Workers Leaving the Lumière Factory
By Bryan M. Johnson
Home is helped into view a cluster
of first-reel iconographic
ships, much sunnier rays—
Magna Mater
By Judith E. Johnson
Her warmth had fallen on silence, in spite of all promises. . .
rank after rank they bled, according to their caste
each rank a source for the next of savage harvest.
Moon Snail
By Jessica Johnson
Even the moon has its own snail,
Gnomic, removed
Under miles of water, its pale
Soprano
By Thomas Johnson
I know there is a window
Opening onto
A garden
States of Decline
By Taylor Johnson
The room is dying honey and lemon rind.
The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations Millennium General Assembly
By Denis Johnson
I dreamed I bad been dreaming.
And sadness did descend.
And when from the first dreaming
Forty-Four
By Devin Johnston
In a deck chair
under castellated clouds
Campari and tonic