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AN IRREGULAR ODE

by RANGI MCNEIL

     AN IRREGULAR ODE     Thirty days shy of forty,  on a rush-hour-crowded Coney-Island-bound F train,  I questioned the exact circumference of the sandy cir...

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ARSENAL

by Rangi McNeil

  ARSENAL      Yesterday was beautiful; today is thick & stagnant: hurricanes threaten communities from Kitty Hawk to Nantucket – all low-lying areas are evacuated...

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My Poems Bear The Weight And Suffer The Limitations Of My Experiences: An I...

by Rangi McNeil

    MY POEMS BEAR THE WEIGHT AND SUFFER THE LIMITATIONS OF MY EXPERIENCES   Qalandar Bux Memon: Your poems often evoke death and also aging - which we might say is a movement t...

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NOTE FROM A DOOMED CIVILIZATION

by Amiri Baraka

      NOTE FROM A DOOMED CIVILIZATION     The Americans have broken all             Treaties, refused to...

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BIRDS ARE NOT THE ONLY MUSIC

by Rangi McNeil

                  BIRDS ARE NOT THE ONLY MUSIC    A name, if not heavy, still of a certain heft, but less jagged than affection: a su...

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A FIELD GUIDE TO THE UNEXPECTED

by RANGI MCNEIL

      How could I mistake the scent of anxious-approaching-angry skunk for that of cheap marijuana? A scent I called skunk weed, but Vida says that term is reserved for the good shit...

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