Lit Poetry

I don’t tell them about the time you were supposed to pick me up from school or the payphone or the answering machine or...

Under the dreamer's hat There are many visions All incomplete A A A Michael Allen's work has appeared or is forthcoming in Bare Hands Poetry, the Nervous Breakdown, Luciferous, and...

I was fat in Japan but still someone grabbed my ass in Akihabara - Electric Town - Geek City - Land of the Otaku - My guidebook mentioned that groping could...

My soles have walked the earth a hundred times over, and over time have walked. Miles of moonlight, Scores of sunshine, Running after rain, Wading in wind, Counting currents backwards           and...

Where are you from? my children are asked not because of how they talk, or how they look, but how we look with one another, this unfamiliar form of...

you are a knot of negative space. you are unraveling. you seek comfort in areas of doubt. (this is not a love poem. it never will be.) the...

A plaque on the Salem Tavern says, “George Washington slept here.” It’s true, it’s well documented, and my daughter doesn’t care. She’s not a fan.  She hasn’t been since...

Painting leaves of many colors Like a robe once worn Forever young   Sewing quilts of many colors Like house guests of old Come back again   Beading all the many colors Like...

At eight years old we know weather advisory gray, know what is coming. We all have our discs at home, the wax to make them fast. Sleds, snow...

Birds hang Emma Fox’s laundry. She is the State Flower of Long Island. Emma Fox sits next to me in chorus class and I hope there’s scientific...