Two-line Poem #16

Art by Jain Koo

Two-line Poem #15

Sunlight blinds our 

eyes and hides the night.

Two-line Poem #14

Daisy corolla's

pleading for peace. 

Two-line Poem #13

Monogamy's 

a promise we break. 

Two-line Poem #12

Follow the money,

honey, but don't love it. 

Old Post-it Poem

Two-line Poem #11

Speculation's good for fiction,
but don't assume the moon's a lamp.

The Missouri Sea

For Hal Ragsdale

“And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by”

            --John Masefield

You wrecked Linda by dying
first, but you returned

with a second heart.

After her death, you crafted

your house to berth her back

to you, slowly if necessary,
with an electric lighthouse as your

séance candle, with her antique

model ships surrounding you—many

ready lifeboats. But framed 

and prominent near your TV

was the store-bought poster

of a man dwarfed by the lighthouse

that was dwarfed by a wave 

crashing into it. 

Photo by Jean Guichard

August 27 Kick Assonance

August 27, 2015

7:00 pm - 9:00 pm

Award-winning storyteller and Huffington Post blogger Leslie Goshko hosts a curated evening of original poetic works that’s sure to Kick Assonance! Join co-creators Kyle Erickson ("Enduro’s Lament") and Steven Leyva ("Low Parish") as they welcome fellow authors Ron Kolm and Zakia Henderson-Brown for an evening of original poetry that Time Out New York magazine named a “Critics’ Pick.”

Readers:

Kyle Erickson is co-creator of the poetry series Kick Assonance, which has been noted by the Poetry Foundation, The Academy of American Poets, hailed as a “Critics’ Pick” by Time Out New York Magazine, and called “a notable New York Event” by The Rumpus. Kyle’s work can be read in This Land Press, Promethia, B’More Poetic, and on his blog, www.okieinthecity.com, which was heralded as a “Top 101 New York Blog.” His chapbook, Enduro’s Lament, was released in 2012.

Steven Leyva was born in New Orleans, Louisiana and raised in Houston, Texas. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in 2 Bridges Review, The Fiddleback, The Light Ekphrastic, The Cobalt Review, and Little Patuxent Review. He is a Cave Canem fellow, the winner of the 2012 Cobalt Review Poetry Prize, and author of the chapbook Low Parish. Steven holds an MFA from the University of Baltimore, where he teaches in the undergraduate writing program.

Ron Kolm is a founding member of the Unbearables. He is a contributing editor of Sensitive Skin and the Editor of the Evergreen Review. Ron is the author of The Plastic Factory, Divine Comedy and, with Jim Feast, the novel Neo Phobe. His most recent collection of poems, Suburban Ambush, was published by Autonomedia last year, and a new book of short stories, Duke & Jill, has just been published by Unknown Press.

Zakia Henderson-Brown has received fellowships and scholarships from the Fine Arts Work Center, Callaloo Journal, and Cave Canem. Her poems have appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, Burner Magazine, Mobius:The Journal of Social Change, Reverie, Thethepoetry.com, Torch, Vinyl, and the anthology “Why I Am Not a Painter” (Argos: 2011). She was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2013 by Beloit Poetry Journal and serves as Associate Editor and Outreach Coordinator at The New Press. 

Two-line Poem #10

Science proves our senses
incorrectly perceive reality.

Two-line Poem #9

City people are all for
one and none for all.

Two-line Poem #8

I'll lend ya some hope, but ya
gotta return it if'n I need it.

Two-line Poem #7

Noble empire building
walls full of rats.

For Steven

Remember when we sat on the graffiti-ed bench -- what wondrous words, "Rage Dionysus", marker-ed across the back rest -- and how the sun descended as the water lifted the military ship docked behind us? I was likely talking through family woe while your kindness sat like a stone beside me. In this poem, the sun hissed into the bay as a pirate ship turned toward us, only you know the truth. The vessel rounded starboard, and a dancing, vested man with a curved sword lifted high, gazed upon our maudlin scene. Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" roared out some speakers. Your head tossed back, as it does when you're struck by goofy beauty, and the painted raven on the brick facade took flight, startled by the suddenly laughing twin stones. Poe would've been proud, or maybe he was the blackness that soared from the brick. Maybe he was the silky shrieking strike through the gloaming.

Two-line Poem #6

An open robin egg

is a home departed.