Poetry

In Joseph’s Kitchen

My friend Joseph, in his plaid shirt, old jeans & slippers, tells me he’s studying Heidegger again.

The Night She Brought Home the Belladonnas

my wife told me to go fuck myself. I detested the closed petals, the hidden corollas folded like a carapace, not letting the light beam in . . .

Osteoporosis

At my age one becomes a bird. The doctor is grave about my bones, so empty that a narrow light shines through.

My Personal Jesus

Jesus, you would freak me out, all that pulpy ooze / Leaking down your spear-driven ribs and, higher up,

The 2014 Confrontation Poetry Prize: Interstate

Memory drove me to the edge of town / and told me to get out. I refused:

A Violent Sound in Almost Every Place #161

I appreciate the risks of the postcard, the lovely,

Projectionist

There is nothing that I cannot show you,

Failed Therapy

The last card was marked. Only the loser cared.

The Uncertainty Principle

From the moment the patient becomes indistinguishable

Isaac’s Lament

He took the wood from me and bound my wrists

Poetry Reading: The 2013 Poetry Prize

Robert Snyderman reads his poem "Monastery for Sandy Hook Children and Teachers," winner of the 2013 Confrontation Poetry Prize, which appears in Issue No. 113, Spring 2013.

Preparing Announcements

The orange and garnet of evening roll through an open window,