a bird-riding grief
“a tabernacle, where memories (a) constellate, (b) dispel, tweeting for (a) healings, (b) witherings from their gods—”
“a tabernacle, where memories (a) constellate, (b) dispel, tweeting for (a) healings, (b) witherings from their gods—”
Every middle of the month: new deadlines, new contests, and new opportunities for your work to find its audience. Here is a roundup of ten submission opportunities with deadlines in the next two months.
By G.R. Kramer
“Have I not seen how its star fire / lavishes itself into every corner, peers / into the guiltiest chamber of our hearts?”
“The couple looks on, a pair of eyes / melting like discarded chocolate, // furtive.”
“Something low and feathery // would rise from his throat as / if he had choked on a bird and that bird”
“to redeem our tarnished souls, updating instantly, adapting in this age / of gratification with a rattle like the sages rolling in their / graves,”
“Praise God for steam, its generosity / and blur, for the dark nest, / of hair pulped on the shower wall.”
“It crosses / a creek hight with spring rain, dying leaves / pulled from
the bank– the dark set in / heavy as an eyelid.”