Trumpet vine takes root among incipient tomato deepunder and around all obstacles it presses on through packed crowded nesses—I just I imagine a dry clicking—it must be…
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The moon is far away, but still it sways the tides Never look at the black sun, my grandmother tells my mother. My mother is a child, and…
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A new series, The Waters, is looking for written submissions as part of our ongoing Calls For Submissions: I’m interested in water. The waviness of it. The ocean. Bodies of water.…
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The reindeer stepped out of the box. Purple tinsel swayed from its antlers and a collar of sleigh bells jingled around its neck. “What language do you speak?”…
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Jihyun Yun is a Korean-American poet from California. A Fulbright Research Fellow, she has received degrees from UC Davis and New York University. A winner of the Prairie Schooner Book…
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In the bed, my leg a hill, when I sit up it redistributes itself. I cross: the skin-surface rippled, wind on a sea sky-lit. When did I get these…
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* * * Song of the Vultures Let’s give praise to the creatures that have lived here aaaaaaaaAll a broken clay aaaaaaaleft muddied in the stomach aaaaaThe heartbeat…
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Part 1: Figures, Forms Tessa said that whenever anyone spoke to her, she saw what they said. Objects, pieces of speech appeared. She would wave her hand in…
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While waiting for my therapist, I flip through the DSM-V and learn that I do not meet the criteria for the following diagnoses: Boanthropy: a condition in which the subject…
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What will you do with the rainstorm I’ve put in you? When a desert has become a forest how possible is it to adapt? You were the river that guided…
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1. I took a walk in the forest (for your garden) I took a walk in the forest. I turned, thinking that I would see you standing next to…
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Was the hotel room in the city with the dark wood? Was the mirror in the city of the beachside hotel? Was the mirror the mirror…
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Birding You were everyone’s mama robin, cracking a warm egg over the fledglings in the neighborhood. I could not move without brushing against the wings of your adopted flock, even…
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My father’s mother smothered ninety-nine-cent packets of ham in cheese and macaroni. Called it casserole, the hiding of one heart attack with a smaller, cheaper one. Midwest that’s a…