Thank you for the interesting afternoon.It’s not something I’m really familiar with.If you set the mimesis beam too highyou no longer get to be self-referential,are no longer let into the secret societymade from all ...
Rise and Fall [56] by Daniel Ruiz
LAR Online, Poetry
Fairytale of Old Town Pasadena I’m waiting for your shift to end scooping baklava ice cream in an alley storefront better suited to hawking bacon-wrapped hot dogs to the drunks staggering home with sticky shoes from ...
Two Poems by Michael Juliani
LAR Online, Poetry
For Brooklyn
1.We stand in frontof the sink asbrush afterperfect brushshe fixes my hair I watchstrands fall herhands smoothingan endless process ofchecking rechecking– Does this hurt?I am so still as tonot ...
This Is How A Desert Moves by Rosalynn Blaisdell
LAR Online, Poetry
after Picasso’s sketch of Don Quixote (1955)There is a whole romantic tradition of failingto put this man and his moth-eaten mindin theatres. Welles had 300,000 feet of footage when he succumbed to a coronary; ...
Errant Knight by Anthony Borruso
LAR Online, Poetry
could they say “we’re pregnant” some other way this time I let pass what may be understood in a different context ...
Another Microaggression by Andrew Garvin
LAR Online, Poetry
Something there is that doesn't love a wall. The stiff earth bending a little. Something shimmers, something is hushed up. In Gaza with its ...
CENTO by Selena Spier
LAR Online, Poetry
Katherine Irajpanah is a writer and postdoctoral fellow at Dartmouth College. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming in the Colorado Review, Peripheries, Only Poems, California ...
Two Poems by Katherine Irajpanah
LAR Online, Poetry
When my mother first left Iran,she didn’t know she’d never return.No jewelry—just thyroid pills,a change of clothes, three photographs—one of me, gap-toothed, smiling.No suitcase could carrywhat she left ...
The Doorstep by Leila Farjami
LAR Online, Poetry
says God after several years of silence. Notin so many words, but the air at nine a.m. is coolthough it’s July, there’s not one but five (five!)stippled fawns high-stepping across the lawn like kidswho struck ...
I Feel I Owe You All an Apology by Celisa Steele
LAR Online, Poetry
