white petals becoming green leaves


from 林 by Mylo Lam

I go into the forest &10;                               to meet the spirits of my ancestors &10;&10;&10;They look at the trees &10;                                   instead of me

wet february
cairn of sticks
atop storm drain

opossum teeth
purple ditch flowers
a golf cart sputters


haiku by Stephanie Logan:

black coffee at sunup
green tea in the afternoon
red wine at sundown

red bloom
against road gray sky
a woolen quiet


from Opera Singer by Ross Gay:

I will be slogging through the obscure country of my sadness
in all its monotone flourish, and so imagine my surprise

two bluebirds dive and dart and a rogue mulberry branch
leaning over an abandoned lot drags itself across my face,
staining it purple and looking, now, like a mad warrior of glee

let me stop here and tell you I said thank you.

sign about signs
next to
sign about stopping


A New National Anthem by Ada Limón 🔊

fallen tree still blooming


from Even the walls by Rob Manery:

everything falls
even the walls
eventually, sooner

birds singing the sun up


birds singing sunrise


by Kenji Minamigawa:

Of course, plants don’t have eyes, right? And yet they bloom with such colorful flowers. To put it really simply, this is a result of their getting information from butterflies: “Hey, you look sweet!” and things like that. So in a way, plants see the world through butterflies' eyes.

invaders blooming amongst the natives


from Comfort by Lionel Kearns:

Warm honey percolates through empty worm holes in the mind.

at the curb
$5 bill


by Magic Realism Bot:

A sex worker kisses boredom inside a glass termite mound.

flowers bloom sinuses


Biopsy by Laura Villareal

A tiny rabbit nested
in the window

my oral surgeon cut open.
He expected an ABC,

aneurysmal bone cyst,
but removed a brown rabbit instead.

They wrap my head and eyes
in a falcon hood

so I can see
my own rattling interior. The long high whistle

heightens. Sea water and blood. Bafflement
textures the air like a chorus as I’m scraped.

During surgery, my doctor finds nothing
except bone

so thin it appears void
& object on the x-ray.

As I’m stitched closed,
I hear: over, under, around, and through
meet Mr. Bunny Rabbit, pull tight and true.

A long thread falls from my mouth
& I pull. A bad habit,

pulling loose strings when I shouldn’t.
I unravel from mouth
down to my feet.

Spring Invading

brown box
of brown boxes
boxing in

Spring Invading

leafless tree
filled with birdsong
distant chainsaw


by Graphic Scores


Spring Invading

asphalt bedded stream of rainbows


Nine Nights by Alex Hyner

Nine nights from around the world, all brought together around one special pole in Los Angeles.