The Marine

by Rogelio Juarez

Sundays my father made us chorizo
we still begged to skip church
four bad kids in line for communion,
recanting silence

Aubade, with Two Deer

by Alan Michael Parker

Soon I’ll need assurances, a shower, coffee, pills.
In the fuzz of dawn, I’m a bell
and time’s the clapper, rung until
one state of being over-rings another—

Canyon Road

by Elizabeth Jacobson

Driving on black ice—
I braked too hard,
spun into a 360

and then two more. ...

Wanda Coleman’s Roar

by Nikolai Garcia

I don’t smoke weed, I smoke palm
trees. I rise into clouds like

the 110-105 interchange. I take back
airspace from a LAPD chopper, examining


by Sophie Klahr

Yes—alone, I could stop for anything.
Fossil bed at a river’s wrist. Hello

aoudad on Blue Mountain, javelina
gnawing cactus. Stinky the cat hiding

in a closet. Every bee takes an hour
and that hour is the bee’s. Vultures braid through ...

Steep Ravine

by Laton Carter

Between sagebrush and the lichened rocks,
a covey of quail employ themselves.

Light disperses in the spray, and a seal
ducks under again. Home for them. ...


by Cynthia Cruz

In Belgrade in my hotel room
I return to the self portraits
from the earlier work:

smoking in the tub
while reading
texts on the New Art Practice.

When I step out of the bathroom...

The State of Jefferson

by Erica Goss

Trucks shuffle in the slow lane.
Mt. Shasta’s a crazy white cone.
I drive as fast as I dare.
Car my shelter, my tiny house ...

Defend the Eastside

by Matt Sedillo

The 5, the 101, the 10
Suavecito for President
A funeral procession out of City Terrace
No ICE on the overpass ...

Arthropoda Californiae

by Annette Schlichter

Three weeks after my husband's cremation
I cancelled the contract
with the exterminator.
Now, I share a home with arthropods.
They teach me to inhabit
hollow spaces. Their movements expand
each room. An ant scurries ...


by Veronica Golos

You have to remember the Aspen grove;

the white stalks of trees, their stuttering leaves--

the descending quiet. Vesper sparrows. ...

every you, every us

by Rebecca Siegel

Think remember map our
every you every us every night every darkness
lay fear down
lay in sadness
carry this acre
taken from a map ...

Condominium Song #3

by Michael Shiaw-Tian Liaw

Steve speaks slowly, and because he is the 
Housing Association President,
he also speaks in detail, willing nothing ...


by Louise Mathias

Our contract was balletic—
you took from me the rabbits spooked

inside their still damp nest. ...

on alchemy

by Rita O'Connell

Never much good at judging distances
or my own physical strength, I imagine
this morning that I could swim across
the Mississippi, be in Illinois by lunch.

I can see it clear from here; the grass
you’d be surprised is just as brown yet
still it’s humming: other. O! to emerge ...

First New Year (Taos, New Mexico)

by Colette LaBouff

The mountain I hadn’t met lamented. It was you’re welcome; I’m sorry you don’t belong. It stood, said you don’t fit—sun hitting its middle ...

Back to quiet

by Felicia Zamora

And the blades of glass prepare for dormant;
think, think in stillness, under winter's palm in
swift approach; desire now this return to dust, ...