POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
An Interview with Brian S. Ellis

The poetry of Brian S. Ellis unravels, inverts, investigates, and complicates. His poems are radical koans and invitations to forego common narratives.

Dear Deer in the Compost Pile

I tap at the alphabet while a single deer
taps at the dirt beyond the brush
on the far side of the tree line.

oh Manifesto

The collective
failure
of ethical standards

An Interview with Dylan Krieger

Dylan Krieger’s poetry is unflinching, grotesque, and beautiful. Her work tackles trauma, wrestles authority, and is a decadent sonic feast.

robertson quay

how does an afternoon turn
on its axis?

Clueless & Briefly Gorgeous

I buy too much, for someone of my stature.
could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin.
its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.

heavy rain
The Plot

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

Despairathon

You’ve spent a lifetime training
for this.

Drowning in sky

I have observed, the theorist
I am

Getting Postcards From a Piano Showroom

The two of us toast to a man we both love, to whatever degree, clink our glasses and laugh…

Black Ghosts of Ponderosa on a Silhouette of Hill

Even as the sun warms the concrete
the long nights’ sensual cold lingers in my clothes.

i do not want to wait until it’s too late

the strands of your hair on the bathroom tiles aren’t sketching defeat. that’s you spitting disease in the face with another day you’ve woken up to.

Soft Porn and Cuban Pine

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.

A Beautiful Thing

I want to roll in this moment until I become its vocabulary
until I smell like the bones
until I am its echo…

Like dirt

this is what I want you to to see:
leaves falling because it is too late for them not to

Snow Falls from Branches

Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night;
should have boiled old coffee before noon.

The Man

the man is stayed bent over the canvas
of my sofa. the man is me the man is him
self and I bring down the whip…

Me and Other Bodily Accessories

I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

The Body is a Sin

The sin is existing.