Liam Chimba
People spilled into each other,
Private little Luther's,
On their hands and knees,
Esmé Kaplan-Kinsey
I live far from Eden these days.
At least there are flowers here too.
But I miss the fog–how it turned a blue day
sepia.
Ben Groner III
If a chemist were to ever get the concoctions just right,
I’d fill prescriptions for imposter syndrome, religious zealotry,
unfulfilled dreams. And others for false generalizations,
cruel assumptions, distrust of my neighbors.
Garth Pavell
This field is tough, a laborer thinks
out loud before thrusting a post hole
digger at the grass not growing into
the forest it had dreamed of being.
Justin Lacour
the way this poem should be crumpled into a ball
in a second it’s gone and there will be no record
that my roommate and i once talked late
about the four permanent things: guilt regret longing fire