Cellpoems

Me in My Place

Christopher Citro — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 15:26:28 +0000

No matter what
you’re up to
the wind in the tall trees
sounds the same.

This poem was written one autumn night alone at home with the windows open.

Rain

Michael Bazzett — Wed, 18 Apr 2012 08:10:35 +0000

Rain simmered
the lake –

all that water
into water

made me feel
hungry for words

which cannot
say what I

so readily hold
with empty hands.

Blackout

Traci O'Dea — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 08:45:22 +0000

Turn out the lights;
Let moths live normal lives.
Days become nights;
Flights–purposeless dives.

MMA

Sherman Alexie — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 21:25:49 +0000

Yes, I have often battled Grief.
Both of us used our teeth.

Erasure I

Hailey Leithauser — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 21:24:12 +0000

?
She was full of people who

cried out
to stop

desire

The wretched animal
only his head above water;

New Regime

Geoffrey Brock — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 15:27:43 +0000

In the main square, an empty plinth
on which the children play.
Only the parents recall the god
and how it got carried away.

Dusk

Salvatore Quasimodo — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 21:02:18 +0000

Each of us stands on the heart of earth alone
pierced by a ray of sun:
then sudden dusk.

Brief History of Romanticism

Chad Davidson — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 21:01:06 +0000

From a sun so ancient it can’t shine
without summoning an epithet, I see

what I was never meant to see.

Wetipquin Cemetery

Adam Tavel — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 08:30:02 +0000

On cloudy days we visited
the moldering graves of old
gods. It was easy to pity
their empty vases till
we remembered the storms
they made.

The Escape

Ryan Vine — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 19:26:27 +0000

All the guard
saw was a wall

with two hands
on top. Then–

squinting and
rising some

from his chair–
just the wall.

In this short poem, I was interested in turning attention to the guard at the time of escape. Maybe it wasn’t an escape. Maybe it was a snake or a cat. Maybe the guard had too much to drink the night before, so on this morning shift his head’s still a bit cobwebby. I guess, then, that this poem is one about anxiety and confusion, two staples of mine these days. What’s the guard going to do now, hit the alarm and slide down his ladder or go back to his sandwich and soda?