Lit Poetry

Butterflies, Saskia are hard to   catch,   your small legs leaping,   your will   are not sufficient. They   fly, their silvery   evanescence,   is just the right amount   of temporary.   Corey Mesler has published seven novels, three books of short stories,...

You flutter past my passenger-side window, bouncing through turbulence, wings luminous: a velvet Elvis under black light, collar glowing, satin lamb chops rising and falling on hinges.   I hold...

I sometimes think we are like a knotted pumpkin, or a twisted and misshapen bed of autumn squash, beautiful in our imperfections.       Curtis Dunlap lives near the confluence of the...

In second grade, she cut her hair, taking the blunt art class scissors and squeezing off a thick lock in the middle of her forehead. a Her mother grounded...

How odd that you prefer   Spirits talking   over a woman alone on a stage.   So be it. I will tell you   I am a flute   the wind whispers through.   Listen...

  after a photo triptych by Agafia Polynchuk   Panel I. It is a slice, but not sauce and cheese and toppings. Rather, it is nutty bread slathered in icings,...