Poetry

“The Spanish Surrealists are constructing a tesseract in my wife’s dream”: So begins Oscar Pelta’s slightly shocking, brightly beautiful surrealist poem, in which life and love are lost and reborn in an explosion of wings.

  San Francisco Bay Area poet Maw Shein Win arranges perceptions in fragments, like the pieces of a broken mirror — or perhaps, and not so jagged, like droplets. Each distinct but reflecting some greater whole, each filled with its own silence and implication — compelling absences for readers to populate. The following four poems […]

By Holly Day Finding Me hesitant, the daffodils fall back as if they know their kind is alien here, in the preserved greenstone steppes once home to trilobites and scaly invertebrate worms. only the hardiest flowers grow here, those that can make a home forcing roots through iron-hard gray granite, or against the base of […]