Poetry Summer 2017 fiction all issues
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Cover Marija Zaric
Kathryn Merwin
For Aaron, Disenchanted
& other poems
William Stevens
Celestial Bodies
& other poems
Kendra Poole
Take-Off, or The Philosophy of Leaving
& other poems
AJ Powell
Mama Atlas
& other poems
Matt Farrell
Waves in the dark
& other poems
Timothy Walsh
Eating a Horsemeat Sandwich at Astana Airport
& other poems
Nancy Rakoczy
Adam
& other poems
Joshua Levy
Venezuela Evening
& other poems
Ryan Lawrence
Vegan Teen Daughter vs. Worthless Dad
& other poems
George Longenecker
Yard Sale
& other poems
Susanna Kittredge
My Heart
& other poems
Morgan Gilson
Dostoevsky
& other poems
Jim Pascual Agustin
The Annihilation of Bees
& other poems
Taylor Bell
Browsing Tinder in an Aldi
& other poems
David Anderson
Continental Rift
& other poems
Charles McGregor
The Boys That Don’t Know
& other poems
Cameron Scott
Ashes to Smashes, Dust to Rust
& other poems
Kenneth Homer
Inferno Redux
& other poems
Alice Ashe
lilith
& other poems
Kimberly Sailor
Marriage's Weekly Schedule
& other poems
Kim Alfred
Soul Eclipse
& other poems
Kim Alfred
Soul Eclipse
My life has revolved
around many suns
always the incandescent
glow being the trigger
for the hypnotic transformation
of each self.
Revolving, my body dizzies
into an oblivion.
Who am I today,
am I suddenly grim?
I am drifting, a new moon,
constantly bearing darkness, and
light again. My life revolves around
many suns, deepening the ability
to feel. Who am I today,
who will I be,
among the infinite selves.
Brewing Innocence
Coffee shop souls differ from
all others;
we are the ones who
get our caffeine fix from
the delicate and creative
energies of beings
with their faces in newspapers,
ceramic mugs steaming with
sweet roast aromas, and from
those who are comforted behind
large rimmed glasses,
watching from secluded corners.
Coffee shop souls thrive off
the untouchable madness
found by looking into the eyes
of the man at the bar
sipping his cappuccino,
surrounding us with something
so rich that five dollars for a coffee
somehow seems reasonable in
relation to the richness you cannot
pay for by sitting inside
this little coffee shop.
The Virtue of Realism
When you find yourself,
take notes.
Beautiful being,
remember how this feels.
All knowing, openly inviting
your soul, you understand.
Remember this feeling.
Do not let it go.
Otherwise, you’ll have to reach
the bottom of too many glasses
and be destroyed, in order to
find yourself again.
So, darling,
take notes
or join me in a cheers to
disillusioned thinking.
Complacence
I sit here, bare, in a lifeless room.
But there is movement all around me;
the monotone hum of a ceiling fan,
television commercials full of hypocrisy,
the rustle of untouched lists on the dresser.
Yet still I sit here, bare,
my body pale and weak,
emptying shallow breaths into a room full
of movement, my presence languished as the
lifeless materialism that surrounds me.
Uncorked
Will you stay sober enough to still
love me in the morning,
like this?
Or will I be left with only the lingering scents of
your skin, trapped between
these cotton sheets.
I hold your shirt near me as I sleep.
Loving you is unpredictable, constant change.
I move the shirt from the bed with a deep inhale.
I should love myself in the morning,
like this.
I roll to my side, see only my reflection in a mirror—
holding my shirt as I sleep, wishing to wake in love,
sharing a cheers with the empty bottle on my nightstand.
Kim Alfred
A tug on your heart, a push of your lungs, and a pull of the red string that connects all life. Poetic works can be found on Instagram using hashtag #kapoetry.