—after Chloe Honum Dusk-lit clouds, tattered remnants of a hurricane above a motel a thousand […]
Mark Wagenaar
If weather’s the marginalia of our dislocation there’s a few notes in the northdrifting clouds that […]
Oculi by Mark Wagenaar
“To hold up a mirror to our hunger” is the gift of this remarkable poem. It’s […]
Judge’s Citation by Jennifer Chang
The boy—ten or twelve—was begging roadside, shirtless, to show the still-bleeding wound. Shot in Kampala, he […]
Elegy I Pray is Not an Elegy (The Wound) by ...
Let go of your old life. The Friday evenings on the patio, the weddings, first days at […]
The Next Life by Mark Wagenaar
When I’m still I hear the bagworms twist in their cities of clouds in the elms & maples. […]