Poetry
This is Thin Air Online’s Archive of pieces that are classified as poetry, both long form and short.
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Two Poems by Andrew Wittstadt
Fresh Flowers Flowers flooded the killing plane ground up lamb brain and daisies Dog pads sashayed into hot filth floors two-inch thick slop, chopped daisies Hit, wrought together garden fence circle-stomped, trampled daisies Mary pressured your hand till faint knuckles stone starred and daisied Stench immense and plain as barn shit squelched to hurt –…
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Three Poems by Joseph de Luna Saguid (tr. by Kristine Ong Muslim)
Translated from the Filipino by Kristine Ong Muslim Island They drift farther and farther away— your children. They can no longer hear your beckoning voice. Playing cards are endlessly laid out during the wake. You fix your eyes on the relentless clawing of water. Drown It is only fitting to take off your clothes. Because…
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Two Poems by Michael Chang
Poem Ending With Lines From Frank O’Hara “I have seen boys, also, walk in the street with their arms twined around each other’s necks, and always in each other’s society. They say they love each other very much.”—Jena Osman “As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool repeats his folly”—Proverbs 26:11 — In…
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My Mother Wants a Cigarette by Ralph Savarese
My Mother Wants a Cigarette Our public health officials have discovered irony, that wind chime on the porch of the gods, that spangled irritant. They’re like an older person with an iPhone, taking selfies, watching videos. “Now, how does this app work?” They tell us smoking offers some protection from the virus. Apparently nicotine inhibits…
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I hold a knife to my jugular before interpreting the Hieroglyph on the far Wall by Enotor Prosper
before Jugular my to Knife a Hold I the Interpreting Wall far the on Hieroglyph At 10:30 P.M., I am in a bus, around that bus, Nigeria is burning; to the far left, a boy cut opens his mouth to mimic the howl rolling out from beside the full moon. Let’s pretend hunger is not…
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A masochist learns to sing the Stones by Brandy McKenzie
A masochist learns to sing the Stones When I say yes, I’m not sure what I mean any more. It could be this: a dark room, some others, Mick Jagger crying over a lost love no one remembers these days, his love and money missing but his coats hanging warm. It could be me, naked…
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Two Poems by Paul Ilechko
A Dismal Completion Follow the thread as it peels back to rawness as it peels away the repetition my scars not visible when the prejudiced flesh battles the apathy of its own nature * * * * * * * the thread is a knotted line bulked and swollen as taut as nerve on a cold white day thickening against the…
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Two Poems by Jonel Abellanosa
Siesta Musical hour, royal sun enthroned. Shadows have retreated into the mind, wind warm to my cheeks. I tune my ear to magpie robins. Sitting in the shade, I watch light through the tree’s crown dot the ground, pointillist. Wondering why I smell dung I hear a cow low, but I see nothing. Dust gathers…
