“Girl in Pink, Refugee Camp” by Lori Schreiner (Oil on Paper) © Save the Children, Photo of Lori’s painting by Jessica Weitz My poem “How to shave your head after the first chemotherapy cycle” in American Poetry Journal’s December issue #15. About The American Poetry Journal Journal & Poetry Editor: Theresa Senato Edwards Assistant Poetry Editor: Hannah Craig Book Reviewer: Carolee Bennett Founding Editor: J.P. Dancing Bear Contact: email@example.com Website: https://www.apjpoetry.org/
Cur-sed is the barren Cur-sed is the fertile There is no lasting fruit in the Republic of Gilead
Haiku #14 Hiding in the tall grass: Your red Obi sash and my tortoiseshell comb.
Haiku #13 Green looping vine, Japanese Honeysuckle climbs toward hot sky.
Kimono tossed over shoji screen. “Lover, draw down the rattan shade.”
Haiku #11 Pregnant ingénue. Leading man twice her age disposed of the body.
I dressed and slipped out the back door while he was in the shower. I was ten miles away when my mobile pinged with a text message from him asking, “where’d you go?” I rolled down the window and continued the 30 miles drive north, the ocean to my left, Solange’s A Seat at the Table filling the car and fueling my thoughts (at times to the point of tears), to my favorite harborside cafe and then to the bookstore to pick… Keep Reading
Meal Ticket Poetry is hosting a photo contest on Instagram and has chosen to give away a signed copy of How to Make Pink Confetti to the contest winner. You should do this because it’s fun and who doesn’t love something free (and pink!). GUIDELINES: WHAT: Meal Ticket Poetry photo contest. WHEN: NOW – MONDAY, JAN 14. WIN: A signed copy of “How to Make Pink Confetti” AND Social Media Promotion to 50k+ RULES: MUST follow @mealticketpoetry3 @cjenkinsiv @catbellypress and… Keep Reading
…When the words lie down/and soak into/recycled canopies/of jungles past,/they reflect what is/nearest to your heart/what frightens the blood/from you…/ You do not know Cambridge Jenkins, IV. Organic tea leaf, whole cream sweet, hot on the tongue. Frayed edge of denim stained with red clay, moss and stank of city. Hair like rough silk, black on gold skin. Lit clove rested on bed of lip and silver smoke swirl. But, when this poet speaks of life and its eventual death: …there on the blue… Keep Reading