To survive this exile, you will need/
to hold court with the moon, store the memory/
of its light in a mason jar for later.
Jason Schneiderman reads “Cabbages and Kings,” a poem by Maura Way
For now it’s guesswork: a territory/
full of unmapped regions,
My husband has been into town./
I can smell the out of doors/
in his hair, on his cheek
As late sun fades/
through the haze/
of their sound
Lily Balsen reads “Revision,” a poem by Jennifer Molnar
If I forget you/ will you disappear?
The arc of Rilke’s question seemed to spawn/
out of a dustbin/ remnant of a
sheer belief that minds are gods.
the asymmetrically lurching gait/
the austere paradox as of one hand clapping/
a unilateral dialogue.
Nksoi Nkululeko reads “How Hair Changes before Expiration,” a poem by J.E. Robinson