* * * holding in one clawed foot, the fruit, the parakeet thrusts its beak into the brilliant fig, plucking hard at the pith it’s another one of those nights,…
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* * * Meadowlark song in a March field of snow ringing again and again from hiding behind fencegrowth …meadowlarkpiccolosplash …meadowlarkwhistle …meadowlarkyellowlight up some patch of snow along with the…
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* * * Barred White Noise and Blue A barred owl hoots—unseen——–heard Dig,—–the cloak of night An apparition—secreted on some dark bough A noisy booger,—–audacious whoop—against constant flood of freeway…
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July 23: six weeks of high summer still to go. A heat dome has simmered us in 110 degrees. When it breaks like a fever, we throw the windows open…
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“(I’m the) DJ of my own films.” -Wong Kar-Wai Woman in Wig: Trials by Night Fortune ought to favour her, orchestrates the great divide through choked streets. This labyrinthine city…
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* * * my sixteenth year spreads itself between steam flooding under a locked door & my mother knocking softly. a juicy lucy burger waits in my stomach & i’m…
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* * * The Woodpecker He interrupts us with his staccato tap tapping, swivels his skunk crown to mock our quiet conversation. By now we assume all the rules are…
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* * * Short Story I saw the third egg there, split open, pink, plastic, half drowning in mud, and thought for a second about saving it, but instead stared…
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* * * WITH MOORE & NIEDECKER ON THE NORTH SEA | SEEING that terns & skuas are quicker than rocks that lichen acidifies sandstone back to sand on the…
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* * * bird, announce * * * rolling * * * versed * * * J.I. Kleinberg is an artist, poet, and freelance writer. She has twice been nominated…
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* * * Aviary Raft, circa 1989 A portulent tuft sidling upward on dampened rocks, Tail and tucked primary bristling, stiffens; Greasy saline sweeps and splatters Penetrating barb and barbule…
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ConversationFeaturedInterviewPoetry“Staging the end of a limiting self”: A Conversation with Mike Soto
When Mike Soto and I talk, we rarely talk about poetry. Especially during basketball season. But I always learn a lesson or two from Mike when the conversation does turn…
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* * * Bird/Watching I often feel I’m being watched By sparrows perching on power lines. By pigeons on high window ledges. By robins on nearby lawns. One day I…
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* * * The Seagull The bird is spattered with sand. Its long feathers glisten with damp and keratin. The body is still a snowy white, its wings a delicate…