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Member since July 1, 2009 | 675 Readings |

Thomas Gibney

is the poet laureate of abandoned boxcars.

Recent Work

Brooklyn by way of Piedmont

(1)

139 views

I've been to Asheville. Maudeville. Dollywood. / The vaudevillian neon ache, the cannibal notions of a circus / population fucked up on groupthink...

(0)

161 views

It's like we've said before: earth won't fluff / its cushions for us, why should heaven? / Idiocy makes for good talk, but / / banter alone...

"I'm alone in the..."

(2)

171 views

I'm alone in the tourniquet of shade in / the garden watching apples assail space / with the way they punctuate it. / / They're so good at...

Currywood. Running. Noon. Bright.

(2)

204 views

Around the apricots. Damascos. That's Spanish for. / The breeze. Hissing in my. Where did my breath. / I need it back. I'm running. The water. Tell...

Subscribed by Thomas Gibney

last night in the apartment.

(7)

346 views

/ / / Now you are young; but give it a minute. / Accumulation is the easiest art. / / Borne over the sea, the avenue, the intervening...

Laurel Lake Thunder

(2)

169 views

No more metaphors remain: / / a hen is a hen. / / a crow is a crow. / / a yeti is a yeti. / / Your homemade medicine, / / your...

familiar deserts

Sarah Louise Green

(7)

421 views

it begins in a house whose coordinates cannot be strangled / / / a preference for glass over plastics / / / wringing the scene over the...

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