#meteorology

5:30 a. m. 's :: moon is a bitten lozenge :: the eucalyptus trickle aching the toothy :: nubs of uncrowned stars—
Lee Ann Roripaugh
from the book #stringofbeads / Diode Editions

In our series Language as Form, we’ve invited poets to write about poetic language as patterned language—how words as sound, voice, sentence, and song become elements of form.

Farid Matuk on "The Moon in Cancer"
Photo: Farid Matuk
Farid Matuk
Run down, or risen Far enough to catch the moon’s reach
Stefanie Kirby
an octopus beats herself against rocks, consumes her own tentacles after         birth.
Morgan Võ

When Earth falls into Heaven, then there’ll be peace.

Luke Johnson
We lobbed a ball above a rim we could not reach.
Monica Ong
Two visual poems by Monica Ong

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