Poetry

This is Thin Air Online’s Archive of pieces that are classified as poetry, both long form and short.

  • An Excerpt from “Medium Warp,” by Mike Oliphant, our 2018 Gas Station Winner

    An Excerpt from “Medium Warp,” by Mike Oliphant, our 2018 Gas Station Winner

    Conditional Ascension in JavaScript if (condition1) { block of code to be executed if condition1 is true } else if (condition2) { block of code to be executed if the condition1 is false and condition2 is true } else { block of code to be executed if the condition1 is false and condition2 is false…

  • Worry Bone, by Hans Hetrick

    Worry Bone Always shaking my tree Always rattling my bones Stirs up the natives tending my temple grooming my home They get no peace They never feel at home Worry bone preaches doom on every street He’s a guest on every show Thinks God burnt trifles into stone Swears disaster lurks ravenous behind every promising…

  • a moveable feast, by Celeste Jackson

    When I hear women speak, I think shi’má sání dóó shi cheii.

  • Three poems by Jon Pierce

    1 of 0    if you read this as if you read this as if you read this as if you read this as if you read this as if you read this as     Doom Abaca, dead; a cab, a decade fagged, a hijacked lima bean, an opal ‘q,’ ransomed; a strumpet, and…

  • Dear Watcher, by Jenn Powers

    Dear Watcher,  1  Be calm. Categorize by level of threat. File by style. A red jagged letter needles my skin. Tell myself this is a joke. Linger in the hallway after school. Back pressed against the lockers. Look left. Look right. Wait for the invisible man who hides like sin and speaks like fire. Why…

  • Two Poems by Genevieve DeGuzman

    Boats She stands at the edge of the dock thinking to set off for anywhere               even the redeye of the storm. But the boat drifts dragging a net of obligations, heavy barnacle gowns              clanking a train behind her. Because the question is always…

  • Guns Are People, Too, by C.J. Miles

    People have been dying since people were people. I’m buying a lottery ticket so I can afford to take every assault rifle off the market, drop them into the middle of the Atlantic. Imagine an octopus at a shooting range: goddamn goddamn goddamn goddamn goddamn goddamn goddamn. Goddamn. Everyone who dies while someone is writing…

  • Star Scatters by Laura Pastorino

    I saw someone nail the moon into the pavement in Northwood last night. They ripped the plywood off and splattered constellations no one had ever heard of. Watched as the stars and the carpenters went shifting, writhing, dancing on top of black waves. They cluster into the nails, spiraling away, winking as they sink into…