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