noor is an experimental poet. she’s received fellowships from Callaloo and The Watering Hole and is a recent resident of the Vermont Studio Center. her poems have been published and anthologized with DIAGRAM, ANMLY, The Academy of American Poets, the Rumpus, Bettering American Poetry, and others.
Category: Poetry
Leaf-Out by William Olsen
Leaf-Out This earliest aspiration to the serial green overstory is stalled, sticky, stuck, mid-leaf. Our streets have not yet darkened with design, to make summer livable. Daylight is not yet switched off by shade. The bare trees could not turn off the day, but look. Already the coppery color of late fall leaf-rust, these are…
Two Poems by Landis Grenville
Still Life with Sergei Osipov with a line from Frank O’Hara The cornflowers in a green vase easily associated on a table inside— No more miracles until afternoon. I want a quiet life: cans of blueberry jam, dark roast, the semi-cubism of things in rain. No one around to hear me say it.…
Erebus Redux by Linda Bierds
Erebus Redux Each name long ago logged. Ice Master. Boatswain. In fading ink on vellum, all: the caulkers and purser, the Newfoundland, Neptune, the monkey, Jacko. The task today? Reanimation, as up from the wreckage divers lift toward the green light of DNA six strands of hair on a boar-bristle brush, and toward…
Two Poems by Michael Schmeltzer
“are you ok I’m worried about You say something” —SPAM email subject line I am burning crayons in the dark.Have I returned to or destroyed mychildhood? Every color melts, especially our favorites.Who once said their bones were as soft as candlewax?Those with ears listen. Those without earslistened too much. I heard it takeseight pounds of pressure to rip off the human…
Jasmine An
ONE OF MY FIVE BODIES WAS BORN A DRAGON AND BECAME A HORSE PRAYER FOR A FAILED MASC BATESIAN MIMICRY ONE OF MY FIVE BODIES WAS BORN A DRAGON AND BECAME A HORSE One of my five bodies was born a dragon and became a horse in atonement for eating another horse. Underneath my white…
Nadia Alexis
Watershed I arrive at my father’s feet a dyingmapou tree. He covers his eyes withmud while the goats feast on my fallen hair. I hear my mother call for the Lordto send just enough rain for our lungs& her carnations to see a new season. My mother always says boys & men are bestat taking.…