by Andreas Fleps

Jesus, Christ, I was the temple
and overturned tables and the worth
clanking across the floor

by Randy Koch

Put down the bottle. You’ve had enough
of her and she of you. It’s not unusual,
no more so than finding a stream of ants

by E. R. Skulmoski

Seeker of Hearts—
The birds alerted me this morning, to not forget the carcass

by Joshua Coben

If to the mind the soul is water
murkier than engine oil,
teeming with unseen particles

by Daniel Thomas

He takes a stuttered step
to the side, like a man
who abandons the stage, strides

by Brian G. Phipps

Having left at last a final time
and driven down the gravel roadway, plumed

by Mary Lanham

It takes the rabbit three days to go
from dead in the speckled shade
to a constellation of bones and sinew

by Lindsey Weishar

i.

I still have the one-way ticket,
its constellation of moon-shaped punches,

by Skip Renker

Again this morning he slings
the rattling bag over his shoulder,
pauses at the water fountain,

by Caleb Horowitz

Lately, I have been trying
to be better at being myself:
read poems every day, write poems every day,

by Caleb Horowitz

We are wearing history heavy like a raincoat
soaked through cold.

History slouches out of Europe
like a fever into Queens

by Annette Sisson

I visit my mother’s ghost,
feel her prompting, fingertip
under my left rib—It’s time

by Annette Sisson

You and I parted in early light,
me still in my bathrobe piling 

by David Anson Lee

She pressed her fingers to my closed eyelid:
the pupil dark as a serpent’s cave,
veined with riverscars.

by Arthur McMaster

Our mother, who may or may not
be in heaven, the last time I saw you
your eyeglasses were gone.

by Marci Rae Johnson

Jesus is almost finished
with his forty days in the desert.

He has written a poem
for each day of his exile,

The Cox's Orange Pippin is not a forgiving tree. It cankers. It scabs. It demands a particular quality of attention from the orchardist — not the broad, efficient attention of someone managing a crop, but the close, almost conversational attention of someone who has agreed to be responsible for a difficult and specific life.

by Daniel Cooperrider

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, a liturgical season that takes its name from an Old English and Germanic word for lengthen, as in the lengthening of the day’s light we notice this time of year.