Poetry | Tarpaulin Sky Magazine
Poetry | Tarpaulin Sky Magazine
PUBLISHING NOTHING BY BILLY COLLINS SINCE 2003 | IMAGE: NOAH SATERSTROM
Poems by Christina Mengert
I want to give everything to you (balloons, umbrellas, words, words), but I am confused by the physiology of arms; to use them as levers. To do with them the work of gifting, the arms themselves must become part of the economy they service. Take these coins from out my eyes: love, love, invisible love.
Poems by Debora Lidov
Baby Boy with necrotizing enterocolitis three inches viable gut. Baby of maternal diabetes, maternal fever, maternal utox, maternal HIV. Baby of domestic violence. Baby Boy they were trying for a girl this time. Baby Girl they were hoping for a boy. Baby the father’s Indo-Caribbean side will not accept your blackness. Baby intubated, brain dead on arrival, mother seized and expired prior induction.
Poems by Jordan Soyka
inching toward. circling back. “nothing but the beginning of terror.” write it. the dreaded event. // made up solely of corners. persistent thoughts, impulses, or images. “there remains.” amputated fingers. lined up and held in place.
Poems by Stephanie Anderson
Droving to bananas // Beryl-spangled / Golden-naped // Dogs guarding the pack against hubcap / A butterfly house
Poems by Michael Trocchia
"There awakes a slight man with his hind legs kicking at the foot of a marble bust. It is the bust of a long ago morning, chiseled in the form of a deformed and feverish boy. The eyes are made of mist and prophecy and in them is reflected a father's beasts of fancy, howling and pacing at their own discretion."
Poem by Meryl DePasquale
A woman puzzles over a hillside until even a wood poppy begins to resemble her fundamental helplessness.
Alexandra Dillard, How We Tend To Fragile Things
"Death followed her so I did too. He cut her hair and I wore her clothes. When Death lit her cigarettes I mixed her drinks." Excerpts from Alexandra Dillard’s poetry manuscript, How We Tend To Fragile Things, a finalist for the 2015 TS Book Prize.
Colin Post, lynx perpetual lynx
"This map of iterations is no more a marked surfys, but rather the luscent screan hung before each port. The arrivals are no more marked in ink, but rather arrayed in leight." Excerpts from Colin Post’s hybrid-genre manuscript, lynx perpetual lynx, a finalist for the 2015 TS Book Prize.
Marty Cain, Kids of the Black Hole
"this is my confessional poem / this is my poem which rises from the dead / this is my poem which eats lesser poems...." Excerpts from Marty Cain’s poetry manuscript, Kids of the Black Hole, a finalist for the 2015 TS Book Prize.
Amy Thomas, Lung Song
"In the night, your mouth gapes and I make a y incision along my own collarbones, flesh peeling away with a sugared lip...." Excerpts from Amy Thomas’s poetry manuscript, Lung Song, a finalist for the 2015 TS Book Prize.