Benjamin Goldberg
Church of the Pyromaniacs

Benjamin Goldberg - Church of the Pyromaniacs

Poetry
Benjamin Goldberg lives with his wife outside Washington, D.C. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Salt Hill, Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Greensboro Review, Grist, The Southeast Review, A… Read more »
William Fargason
Egg Tooth

William Fargason - Egg Tooth

Poetry
William Fargason’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in New England Review, Grist, New Orleans Review, Bayou Magazine, Nashville Review, and elsewhere. He is currently a poetry MFA candidate at… Read more »
Matthew Sisson
Folly Literature

Matthew Sisson - Folly Literature

Poetry
Matthew Sisson's poetry has appeared in magazines and journals ranging from JAMA The Journal of the American Medical Association, to the Harvard Review Online. He has been nominated for a Pushcart… Read more »
Janice Ko Luo
Mon Coeur

Janice Ko Luo - Mon Coeur

Poetry
Janice Ko Luo graduated with an MFA in Creative Writing from Antioch University in Los Angeles. She has been a Poetry Editor for the literary and art journal Lunch Ticket. She was selected for a… Read more »
Meg Hunter
Our Apollo

Meg Hunter - Our Apollo

Poetry
Meg Hunter is a Special Educator in Charles County, Maryland. She holds an M.S. in Special Education from Dowling College and a B.A. in English from the University of Maryland, where she lived in the… Read more »
Brandon Amico
Self-Portrait with Oncoming Storm

Brandon Amico - Self-Portrait with Oncoming Storm

Poetry
Brandon Amico is from New Hampshire. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Carolina Quarterly, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Hunger Mountain, Sixth Finch, Tupelo Quarterly, and elsewhere. You… Read more »
Kate Peper
The Weight of a Bridge

Kate Peper - The Weight of a Bridge

Poetry
Kate Peper is a freelance designer and award-winning watercolor painter living in Marin County, California. Her poems have twice been nominated for a Pushcart and have appeared in the Cimarron Review,… Read more »

The Weight of a Bridge

Kate Peper

made so much heavier by pigeon shit,
the slow acretion and stink of it all.
Generations of bland-eyed birds
with softly fluorescent wings fanning
as they alighted, shat, cooed.

Nobody guessed they could crush a bridge
over time, or how the brass balls of the Wall Street Bull
would be so shiny from all the years of hands touching,
the testicles some totem of luck or fortune
made smaller year by year

the way our great love was reduced
to that last day we met by the Mississippi.
Spring, the Russian olives mad with perfume.
The moment you said over
was when the dead dog came into focus,
draped over the rock in the river, hair worn off,
skin obsidian, lapped by water. Read more »