Cruel and Unusual Nourishment Erica X Eisen The quality of food in prisons has reached crisis levels.
Despite All His Cage J.W. McCormack Nicolas Cage’s career is a categorical triumph of style over substance.
Pressure and Escape Mark Muhannad Ayyash In Palestine, nature and poetry offer a respite from constant pressure.
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Colombia’s Historic Pact Steven D. Cohen On the victory of Gustavo Petro Urrego and Francia Márquez Mina.
Poems for the Unemployed: ap1.doc Grayson Del Faro [ ] blood runs green and the [ ] one i will let let me / i will let it run me good and green into its pockets until i don’t run at all / i will simply fall in / i am a whole entire [ ] but i can be yours for a small monthly fee [ ] it could all be / every red cent around [ ] how do i [ ] / how do i convince you i tell you that “I am the ideal candidate” [ ] that i give more than i can, that i would even [ ] suck up [ ] my own desire, as if i desire more labor, less time / as if any desire were left un-bled-dry / it ripens with age but in the dire [ ] we realize it gets squeezed my experience includes a childhood best friend’s mother / she restocked hallmark cards at walmart / babysitter-less we went with and worked too, ripping the bags apart and letting the glitter fall on us, shining like [ ] we lit up this way / [ ] help her to [ ] herself / to finish her degree and make good on her ascent to some grace / more than good, when we left she would give [ ] money for our time / so time and time again i turned minutes untimidly [ ] dimes / no wonder of its worth, to [ ] fair / when she slipped those few little green dollars into my glittery fist, i came to be [ ] / my eyes sparkled more than my hands that was my first [ ] at least i let her be my first boss / more than cash i [ ] think she paid us in light / years later she said she cried when i stopped being friends with her son / these eyes still glimmer but dull hands [ ] not / when [ ] ends, it ends [ ] [ ] me / you can do any vile thing you want to me isn’t that what you want to hear / the sinister minimum slipping into acceptance is [ ] fault / isn’t it a fault line / at least a fault of mine is mostly that [ ] of my best is yours / yet still i see over all these [ ] flat words [ ] that can’t get a rise / not even from a sun / as if the idea [ ] is set in bloodred stone that never is my everyday [ ] evergreen without your leverage pressing me into profit / professionally i confess i learned how to convert stress into jewels [ ] worth something but never precious / i proffered them / they sold / they didn’t weigh me down like words [ ] / some born like burdens / i babysat as a teenage boy / it was unlike [ ] only [ ] for me [ ] it could’ve been [ ] beauty but it was ugly crying and [ ] / i mean me / also the babies / i had my first beer then / bitter, bidden by my uncle [ ] a smile [ ] as a part of [ ] life: the white-washing a wood fence [ ] like babysitting [ ] this included: those weekends of work and family / my aunt taught me how to knead pizza dough, how to drive stick it stuck in mind and it didn’t suck then but nevermind time [ ] is drained and now i’m begging not to be [ ] any more than you will let / let me be
Vivian Maier Considers Heaven from a Bench in Rogers Beach Park Chicago Shane McCrae In Heaven nobody will be alone In Heaven except for me and nobody Nobody calls nobody comes My nobody expands across the country The way a parachute expands across The sky it does if you’re right under it In Heaven they’ll throw me in the lost And found where I guess everybody goes At first now that I think about it what Will be my special place apart I wonder Or will they leave me in the lost And found box after they have scooped the heaven- ly out a permanent person in a tem- porary place roles are reversed in Heaven Nobody calls nobody comes In Heaven I expect the children are A kind of furniture nobody sits on Like flowers in Manhattan maybe sometimes They’re brought to God and God says This one And that ottoman is sent back to life A baby and for some this seems to never Happen I think I’m such a child returned Most things in my life seemed to never Happen before they happened now they seem to Have never happened though they have for the time Being I am for now I’m stuck in most Things having never happened I’m A lamp shining in an abandoned building But for a lamp I think that would be Heaven
