Member since July 1, 2009 | 4,684 Readings |

Thomas Gibney

is the poet laureate of abandoned boxcars.

Recent Work

Brooklyn by way of Piedmont

(1)

696 views

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

Poemnation

(0)

882 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)

784 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)

2,322 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

LOVE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS

Meg Hurtado

(0)

229 views

// The elderly still holding hands and then // remembering, letting go at the light, // / a black-masked stranger on wheels / mumbling a…

2.24

Sarah Louise Garrido

(0)

127 views

The moment the idea of you / collided with those shapes, / I remember your face. / The covering you swoop around yourself / like a cape. Your eyes…

1.2

Sarah Louise Garrido

(0)

172 views

New year, new terror – / or is it dullness? As years pass, / they’re one and the same. Little hands / reaching up to be held, staving off / the…

11.6

Sarah Louise Garrido

(0)

1,256 views

Because I wanted to touch / the thing lasting, the river / under your eyes and mine, / we had a child. Another / miracle, its beauty and power /…

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