Madalena Fine

This is not a poem This is not a poem. And this is not a poem About the moon. She’s of no use to me. Turns up As the sun relaxes, Like an old man On a leather armchair That started the day stiff And ended it broken in and soft. The moon is of no use to me When I yearn...

Lindy Usher

Kurt Schwitters and England   Biography – Chronology [Stroke] Born, 20 June 1887, Hannover, Germany 1915: Marries Helma Fischer 1918: First collages [beginning of friendships with Hans Arp and Raoul Hausmann.] 1919: First Merz painting 1922-1923: Dada-Tour [with Theo...

James Piatt

What Is This I See ? Is it desperation… Drenched in moldy memories, The hallucinatory beat of A broken jazz saxophone, or An antediluvian lake where Dead fish swim after midnight, or A place where lonely people Cut their hair with metal shears While they paint scarlet...

Holly Day

The Future Critics and Judges Someday, archeologists will uncover the door of our home, make wild guesses about the exact placement of the house number, and how to read the characters that make up our address, write papers based upon theories impulsively grasped at...

Diana Reed

This Mermaid What I think about this Mermaid is, she started joyful, deeped in sea with no edge but the yes-no of brine and salty air where, heads and tails with seals and whales, she liked to breath. No need for baths and keeping clean, wave-churn her every-way-up...

David Susswein

The Indelible Stain “Wake up! sleepy head!” — tossing a sentence in bed with her — like a grenade with a pin missing, he thought. She has struggled to ever understand, subtleties and complexities of emotion: ‘bare lust, rage, need for food or...