By Jayne Cortez
.sm-caps { text-transform: uppercase; font-weight: 500; font-size: .85em; letter-spacing: .05em; } Harsh...
Explore Poems: War & Conflict
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- By Edward SalemI sat up in bed with my legs crossed for too long, and when they started prickling and feeling heavy...
- By Edward SalemThe Dome of the Rock was on fire, I thought. I saw people running out, shouting and fighting as smoke...
- By Edward SalemThe dead Palestinian brother. I have lost each of you, my personal friend and sister and glass of cold...
- By Edward SalemAcross the suffocating blackness, the waveless water and a broad hush in the indecipherable wind, Jordan...
- By Cyrus ConsoleRotor wash, or the downward-flowing Air by which our helicopters formed Imprints in the jungle grass beneath ...
- By Georg TraklAt evening autumn forests drone With deadly weapons, the golden plains And the blue lakes, above which...
- By Abhijit Sarmahmother hopes to tell me more about tree-root trails, melodies woven out of winds roaring down our ricefields...
- By Tristan Tzarasenseless here’s the man with the crystal contractions with the rumor of sand with a doll’s past tense...
- By Aria AberOver Skype, I try to document my mother’s bald-shaved youth—she has a surplus in truths, and science...
- By H.D.Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens and the sea takes on...
- By Layli Long SoldierHere, the sentence will be respected. I will compose each sentence with care, by minding what the rules...
- By Yuri AndrukhovychBut Ukraine is a country of the baroque. Traveling through it is a pleasure for the eye. And that’s why the temptation...
- By Yuri AndrukhovychУкраїна ж—це країна бароко. Мандрувати нею—для ока втіха. І тому западає спокуса в око: зруйнувати в...
- By Ahmad Almallahthe world is not as bad as our neighbors made it to be that day— we’ve seen worse days— and how beautiful...
- By Rickey LaurentiisBecause I should’ve wrote this years ago, I’m crying. So what my slow failure pass the years Make me...
- By BazeedIn the hiding hour of autophagy ghosts hang out all day and talk to us. An archival haunting demanding...
- By Sara Abou RashedWhen I die, bury me in the sky— no one is fighting over it. Children are playing soccer with empty bomb...
- By Rachel Tzvia Back(1) In worded a world how broken from beginning: sunburst and blossoms all subterfuges of creation ruses...
- By Rachel Tzvia Back1 The cyclamens have a hard time breathing in July. The sun ravages them and earth is too dry. Still...