Red evening light and the sky is a tantrum

DS Maolalai

it’s a beautiful evening.
a man in the street
puts his hand on a wall 
and throws up a whole
brass section orchestra
while sun sets its head 
against everything,
making stubble of dust
hung with five o’clock 
shadows. the street
turns its neck like a woman
with wonderful hair. the trees 
fill with red evening 
light and the sky is a tantrum. 
cars move like cows
being herded toward home. 
this man, so well lit, throwing up 
some dog’s breakfast, a start-stopping
jazz of trombones — you can tell 
he is digging up
harder than shovels. you can tell
his whole soul’s 
coming out. 

 

DS MAOLALAI has been nominated nine times for Best of the Net and seven times for the Pushcart Prize. He has released two collections, “Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden” (Encircle Press, 2016) and “Sad Havoc Among the Birds” (Turas Press, 2019). His third collection, “Noble Rot” is scheduled for release in April 2022.

A Pear

Javeria Hasnain

I’m radical. I see a pear growing 
in daylight, and am delighted for it. 
I imagine the soft pear in the thick of
moonlight, suddenly dewy, desirous
of a mouth. I imagine said mouth &
like that, I am back in the warm bed,
gazing at you the way a muntin gazes
at the full moon, with its smallness.

 

JAVERIA HASNAIN is a Pakistani poet from Karachi. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Margins, Gutter magazine, Superstition Review, and elsewhere.

Janu-weary but Still Standing

January 2022 Cover

According to the calendar my three-year-old picked out—the first month has a picture of a feathery white kitten beside a black rabbit with striking blue eyes—it’s 2022 now. I was hoping Jonathan Swift would write the introduction to our one-hundred-and-fifteenth issue, as his satiric sensibility is well suited to such times, but my attempts to contact him via planchette have turned up only a series of squashy loops. [Side note: it’s possible that his comment on our present situation is “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.” And if so, it’s apt.]

The January issue begins with the delightful imagery of James Croal Jackson’s “Little Cartoon,” a poem that packs a lot into its twenty-two words. Next, Jessica Klimesh brings humorous subjects to life with “The Start of a Bad Joke.” After that, take a surreal ride on Nikolaj Volgushev’s “Subway” and find out what mysteries await “Inside the Last Cinnamon Raisin Bagel” with Benjamin Davis. Conclude your tour with Harsimran Kaur’s poem “She,” a celebration of ordinary pleasures that feels like a blessing for the start of a new year. This month’s creepy AF cover art comes to you from our Production Editor, Sam, and some A.I. Gremlins.

As always, thank you for reading. Try to be kind to strangers and animals. And strange animals. Leave books and neat rocks in unexpected places for others to discover. Take a walk, if you like walks. Or a nap, if you prefer naps. Make yourself a nice cup of tea and stare out the window for a while. Eat a spoonful of butterscotch sauce. You deserve a treat.

Crinkle it online or rustle up a .pdf.