By Raúl Zurita
And then rained down from ferocious cloudsour empty pupils heard the suspended breakersbeat while down...
Explore Poems: Simile
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- By Joshua SeigalI don’t like similes.Every time I try to think of onemy brain feels like a vast, empty desert;my eyes...
- By Ada LimónIs it okay to begin with the obvious? I am full of stones— is it okay not to look out this window, but...
- By Ada LimónI pass the feeder and yell, Grackle party! And then an hour later I yell, Mourning dove afterparty! (I call the feeder the...
- By John MurilloFor me, the movie starts with a black man Leaping into an orbit of badges, tiny moons Catching the sheen...
- By Lynn EmanuelLove is boring and passé, all that old baggage, the bloody bric-a-brac, the bad, the gothic, retrograde...
- By Justin Phillip ReedThere it goes, thin thing, cheshiring between trees whose reaper-robes trail their trains deep underground...
- By H.D.Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens and the sea takes on...
- By Aria AberOver Skype, I try to document my mother’s bald-shaved youth—she has a surplus in truths, and science...
- By Beth Ann Fennellyreveals itself in retrospect. Unlike the first, whose March arrival bade you gasp, hands clasped, like...
- By Reginald Dwayne Betts[An Outline for a Film] A woman leans against a man who leans against a brick wall watching cars stop...
- By Tom Andrews1. Day brings a steady hand, a sure breath every other day ... My brother again on the edge of his bed...
- By D. A. Powell“Anyway, it isn’t forever,” Chris said, “eventually you’re dead.” And we laughed Besides, everything...
- By Ruth AwadDays of rain. The drey outside my window would keel and the wind would plunder. My heart was valent ...
- By Natalie ShaperoGod come on stop cutting me out of your photos God stop dragging the mouse around my shopworn body like...
- By Richard SikenSomeone wheeled me to the curb. A different friend helped me into a car. We got to the condo and managed...
- By Kara KrewerUnder which she pruned the peach trees and a tiny gateway opened in her spine. That pain distilled there...
- By Genevieve ArlieThe geometer wishes he were David cut from stone by lightning, his mind gyring wide into figures of ...
- By Sean MahoneyI may take offense, may still your tongue And your fickle ax willowing spastically During unpredictable...
- By John ClareAnd what is Life?—An hour-glass on the run, A Mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling...