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Channel: iO: A Journal of New American Poetry » Vol II Issue I
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J.P. DANCING BEAR

THE RHINOCEROS AND THE GYMNAST She bends over backwards and he shoulders the maneuver. He does his best to keep the horns of his head lowered and away from her next move: a back handspring. Each...

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JOE WILKINS

HARDWOOD FOREST IN LATE NOVEMBER: ALL THAT WAS GREEN IS GIVEN to rot. Consider the wrack & vise of ice, then thaw’s sump: with every boot stomp or breezy crease this mat of maple leaves...

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DOT DEVOTA

SCENES FROM MY MASSACRE A long time ago the ego and I met. Beyond that, my knowledge is rather agoraphobic. We have been careless with each other I wake grinding my teeth I scream, my life is ruined!...

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MATTHEW GUENETTE

DIS(RE)COVERY You seam my pleasure at the governor’s extraordinary show of short-sight. You are family feud’s fast money, the wager life lies or lies before you like a path of driven snow. You Hank...

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NATASHA KESSLER

ALTAR Your  skin  so fair.  Song  asleep  in the woods.  Horizon falling under horizon.  Run through  the woods and dark briars.  Open  your  face  and run  through  it.  Run to the horizon and  the...

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MARC RAHE

PARKING LOT It is from here, parked behind this house rented in the complex, that she sees a rabbit race from dark to dark across the headlights and says to me, “look at that rabbit.” The communal...

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LEORA FRIDMAN

WHEN MEDICINE TASTES LIKE AIRCRAFT We all need a little break. We all need a little jolt sometimes, and the way that rocket ship undid me was not about metal or gas- powered weight. If lead wasn’t...

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DAVID BARTONE

                    CONTACT JOHNNY Where the word contact kills me I thumb back over my list. All crazinesses are non-linear in their touchdown psychosis. The lost have their own grace. —Return office...

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REBECCA HAZELTON

APOCALYPSE, AGAIN At first, it’s nothing but killing, and taking, but once fucking enters, barter comes in, and then other acts for other objects, and my husband assures me that in this new economy...

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NATE PRITTS

TODAY’S SUNGLIGHT Today’s sunlight is entitled “Crisis.” It plays gentle havoc with the soft parts of me, makes me question those smiles of cloud in the far away sky. Davis Square lunchtime & the...

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