At The Common, we’re celebrating the shortest month of the year with new poems by four contributors to our print journal.
At The Common, we’re celebrating the New Year with four poets new to our pages.
Please enjoy four new poems by The Common contributors.
This month, we’re pleased to offer seven new poems by several returning and new contributors.
Forecasts say prepare for rain, so you will—
will keep at the ready tarp and cord, tents
and candles. And you will drink to the gulls
circling and the May sun high above rocks
When the new year came with whole flocks of doves
and jackdaws falling dead upon the fields,
landfills and roofs blackened with wings; the lakes
silvered with drumfish, their bellies bloated,
Arid stick of trail, waving ocotillo: O mottled cactus branch pointing beyond the pictographs of water sources—
I begin with Byron & Tennyson
& watch my students bury
their heads on desks; they rest
easier than the deceased. Dear 2PAC,
You wear those shoes like a shy mother.
You are a shy mother.
Mother, it’s snobbish nonsense;
all these chanson tramps
just prance prance prance about town
Night-drunk bees s(t)unned on October’s panes,
Their dried husks in the windshield of a late-night thought,
Home is just a breadth of road away.
Each limousine the pinwheel of a funeral.
50% cuts in the U.S. nuclear arsenal.
The night nurse easing your thin bottom
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