new poems
-
So happy to announce the arrival of three new poems in Black Lily Zine Issue 2! If you want a copy of this gorgeous zine, email blacklilyzine @ gmail.com. Preview below:
-
Info below: Black Lily Zine
-
RUST, AND OTHER INEVITABILITIES paper cut on a cardboard boxdandelions’ fluff in the garden bedsour milk forgotten in the fridgemoisture caught in the bread bagupended toy chests piles of books on the floorthe way a body sags towards its endgray streaks our hairdaffodils coming up in green pointsrain on the dry earththe rewilding of once-manicured…
-
I have been keeping up with the daily poems on my threads account @ poetamsd_ but I’ll share some of my favorites below. A BOUQUET OF LIGHTNING To grab the sky in a hurricanerain paints sorrow on your armsthunderous applause in a heartbeat waiting for a gathering flashveins pump new electrical work connect you to…
-
CONNECTIONSHold me til I’m fulllike the porridge too hotfor Goldilocks, orthe zone we hope alienslive out their unknowndays. Be my harborslicked in oil and rainbowsfull of dark scaleson the backs of carphoping for bread. I’ll light youup like tinder in my firepit. Table discussiontil tomorrow. The night’sso sweet.
-
Two Poems inspired from prompts on Threads (Amy Kay Poetry and Octavia Knight Poetry). IN PRAISE OF the small feat of my bodythe growing aroundlike a blanketwrapped in dark bloodtwice the seams sewn insidecreating new someonesfor the world. LOVING YOU WAS HONEYCOMB stung on the palmas I reached for yourcells sweet stickyburden on the tongueheft…
-
April 1, National Poetry Month again, and I’ve got quite a few poetry things planned for myself this month! Feeling like I’ve dipped my toes back into writing in the most beautiful and slow way, a way that hopefully will allow me to enjoy my writing instead of worrying about submitting or perfecting. Just let…
-
Another morning shifts into view like frost receding from rooftops, the unexpected cold of April’s end. The sheets are warm with your body, the imprint next to me where your hand pressed the mattress. Now entropy. I have to leave this space and wake the baby. I finger the edge of the comforter will-less to…
-
Sliver of the icicle from a clogged gutter in April, wind like a spray // of water, biting raw our cheeks and hands held to pray. A rolling over in my belly, again. You awaken like spring // should be. Up with the hyacinths and daffodils opening petals to pray. Sticky fingers in my hair,…
Amanda Stovicek D'Alessandro 