A Poem for Painters Conceptual Artists
—after John Wieners
The hand bereft.
How can the wall show it?
I look for grief, or mischief.
The floor is scratched with want of story.
Only in the ...
2 Poems by Eva Heisler
LAR Online, Poetry
Long before I moved into my current neighborhood where people push tiny dogs around in baby strollers, I lived amongst the bottom of the barrel. I was young then. Now, whenever I pass Moss Park by streetcar, I’d ...
Stupid Beautiful Days by Annie Zhu
Fiction, LAR Online
Where do you live? أين تعيش؟
4 Poems in Arabic and English
A Translation Collaboration by Jennifer Jean, Dr. Hanaa Ahmed, and Tamara Al-attiya
In 2017, Iraqi and American members of the Her Story ...
A translation collaboration by Jennifer Jean, Dr. Hanaa Ahmed, and Tamara Al-attiya
LAR Online, Translations
Yaccaira Salvatierra’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in POETRY Magazine, The Nation, Huizache, and Rattle among others. Her collection, Sons of Salt, is forthcoming with BOA Editions in 2024. ...
2 Poems by Yaccaira Salvatierra
LAR Online, Poetry
my leg on his hand
My boyfriend is naked on the couch, high, and I still don’t know what it’s like to be high and I rub my leg on the back of his hand and wish I was rubbing my leg on his palm.
my chin ...
Too Old for Doctor by Max Kruger-Dull
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
The winter after stayed cold longer than usual even for Minnesota. Snow dressed the skeleton trees but scantily because mounds crowded the streets, the sidewalks, all the places I tried to move forward in. I did yoga in ...
Arrangements by Amy Bohlman
LAR Online, Nonfiction
after Rick Barot
When any word is called for, say
that I am with. When weeds grow
taller than the grass, that is persistence.
An earthquake swings the house,
that is time’s pendulum. ...
If there be any virtue or any praise by Anna Gasaway
LAR Online, Poetry
At first, the man thought nothing of the brick on the Egyptian Cotton sheets on top of the bed he shared with his wife. It was small and almost innocuous a brick is an odd thing to put in one’s bed, he thought, why ...
The Way They Used to Be by Andrew Bertaina
Fiction, LAR Online
Sunday Song
It’s no use to pick another way,
to decide between this wounded word and a yawn,
to enter the door through which you’ll get lost
or go on like some forgotten thing.
It’s no use ...
Three Poems by María Mercedes Carranza Translated by Jere Paulmeno
LAR Online, Translations
