Member since July 1, 2009 | 4,854 Readings |

Thomas Gibney

is the poet laureate of abandoned boxcars.

Recent Work

Brooklyn by way of Piedmont

(1)

734 views

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

Poemnation

(0)

918 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)

820 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)

2,382 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....

Subscribed by Thomas Gibney

AND FOR THAT WHICH I CAN NEITHER ACCEPT…

Meg Hurtado

(0)

181 views

When Piggy squeals, / No, Kermie, no! No, no, no, no! / she does not mean, Why rescue me? / Save you! I’m just an actress-model! // / Many…

Good Friday

Sarah Louise Garrido

(0)

32 views

Watching my son watching / the tree, its communication / of atoms’ movement. I mean, the wind / commingled–transfer of life / between all things. I…

Cross over

Sarah Louise Garrido

(0)

24 views

Axis // axiom. // Ask me, and I’ll stand in the joint, gnarls of old trees wrapping round my arms. // And here we are: in the hinge. // The middle…

Sarah Louise Garrido

(0)

28 views

Light skates the bay, / takes a cut through woods, / through winds. Air enough / for here, winding my / way through just aside sense. / / You may…

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