Justin Marks' first book is A Million in Prizes (New Issues Press). He is also the author of several chapbooks, the most recent being Voir Dire (Rope-a-Dope Press). New work can be found in Harp & Altar, Sink Review and Tusculum Review. He is the founder and editor of Kitchen Press Chapbooks and lives in New York City with his wife and their twin son and daughter.
Matter of Fact
I wanted to create the ocean, the sky,
the intricate structure of a leaf
and thought by now
I’d have come close.
What joy I have in knowing
creation of that sort
The world has little
use for me.
Its glare blinds.
How glad I am
for the orbit I inhabit.
A planet to the sun.
another poem from A Million in Prizes
Kitchen Press Chapbooks
See Justin's inclusion in Stephen Burt's essay on 'The New Thing' in the latest Boston Review
Julia Cohen is the author of several chapbooks including The History of a Lake Never Drowns (Dancing Girl Press), Who Could Forget the First Sensational Evening of the Night (H_NG M_N Pres) & When We Broke the Microscope (with Mathias Svalina) (Small Firess Press) . Her poems have been published in Denver Quarterly, Copper Nickel, Bird Dog, Spinning Jenny, RealPoetik, Forklift, Ohio, MiPOesias, and GutCult amongst others. Her first collection Triggermoon, Triggermoon is forthcoming from Black Lawrence Press.
There Was a Bridge of Tattered Rugs
I've cut the rope-swing, carved scars in a tree
I've taken a glass bottle and shingled its sides
I've taken some velvet leg and tossed it in the gully of my bed
I've wasted quilt
A nightgown soaked in milk
The bassinet sleeping in the greenhouse
A boat-shaped spider crabbing the high corner
What have I done to this world
The fairness of snap peas
Did that sound leave me
I’ve tattered a rug to bridge the embankment
but the cry came from below
I’ve leeched from and leeched from
and left what I could no longer hold
No refuge is permanent
The human voice
Pelts of my name
Heather Green’s chapbook, The Match Array, is available from Dancing Girl Press. Her work has appeared in Denver Quarterly, Barrow Street, The Hat, Tarpaulin Sky, and other journals. She lives in Boston, though not for long.
from The Match Array
I’ve got to stop saying, “Look.”
He doesn’t even know there’s a pattern to recognize:
a young man appeared, upriver or downriver.
The other idea is the machine, the house:
Just because we’re sitting in the same room doesn’t mean. . .
By the next morning, the man fell asleep
by the clock.
Meanwhile, subjects had collected data about colors.
Fixed color terms unreliable,
Their attitude was, Who cares what the color is?
They make fun, give really bad information sometimes.