Turning Tides

Literature and Arts Journal

Category: Poetry

  • Reincarnation

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    By: Henry Dang so likewhat if i dieand then boomi’m a froglike actuallyribbiting and stuffno taxesjust vibesand, then again, i die.and now i’m a chairbromen merely sitting on me.as back again i have responsibilities?and then perhaps i am a cloud.just floatingdoing nothingfinallybut then zapback to humanand now i must remember.how to walkand pay rentreincarnation is…

  • Fish Face

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    By: Madi Salinas Looking in the mirror. I’ve never seemed so small. So small. It’s never been so clearer. In all my life, I have never been so shy. Unhappy with what I saw but somehow giving aquatic chic. A fish face looked back, with scales, and eyes, and lips which pucker like so. As…

  • For the Hoarders

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    By: Mary Kane This morning, I want to say something in praiseof the hoarders, who have so much lovefor the physical world, so much room in their hearts for every worn sofa, every only-a-little-bit-rustedcast iron skillet, every idea or design living inside countlessnubs of pencils with ground-down erasers, every oh so useful picture frame, screwdriver,…

  • 982 Millibars

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    By: Michael Mulkern Here we are, and there is nowhere to goThe veering wind brings gray to the starsQuickly upon us a storm will blowAs reported: nine eight two millibarsIt comes on quickly, and whips up the seasWaves build into an unstoppable forceSpray fills the air, and begins to freezeRelentless, thrashing, it has no remorseIn…

  • The Wild Flower

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    By: Alysse Stasio A wild flower in a field of rosesIts hidden beauty blooming withinA misshapen stalk with weird posesAnd petals as delicate as the wind They never want the wild flowerThey want the perfect bloomColors never seen atop a thorn towerPutting off and enchanting perfume The wild flower sticks out like a sore thumbAlmost…

  • Master Plumber

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    By: Luke DuBois On the twelfth day of Sea Term, the Master Plumber gave to me; Twelve trouble log entries, Eleven motha-fuckas, Ten dumb deckies, Nine flights of stairs, Eight outside rates, Seven rice filled grinders, Six coffee breaks, Five in port watches, Four New York strip clubs, Three stinky rooms, Two pairs of overalls,…

  • Homogonized

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    By: Luke DuBois On the frigid bridge We sent the 3rd rate Chid A lot of stairs He’s almost there The mate cast a look of doubt But then a multimeter came out The milk was getting warm Chid worked in perfect form The voltages seemed good He’d done the best he could New relay,…

  • Your Sailors

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    By: Graelan Hoverkamp Did you lose your sailors,To the raging song of the sea?Did they hear the callOf voiceless sirens?Did your sailors,Heed the call of the ocean?Howling, yearning, screaming, churningCold, depthless, endless, agelessDid your sailorsBrave the biting wind,The surging waves,To calm the tempered storm?Did you lose your sailors,To the embrace of Earth’s blood?Do they rest…

  • The Water

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    By: Mary Kane I could stay in bedall day long, eatinga noun here, another there – radish,melon, poem, friend.But I have this bodyso like a happy dogthat wants to walkbecause it’s a beautiful cold grayJanuary morning. The deadoak leaves that hang onsay to me, You are onlywho you are. The dead novelistaswirl in her thousandsof…

  • Company

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    By: Mary Kane I used to write poemsfor you, used tosee paper napkins flylike puffy white cloudsin good country airand eat blueberry pieand drink coffeethinking all the whileof a kind of lovethat involvedfeeling understood,whatever the heckI meant by that. NowI feel a little sadmuch of the timethough I kinda enjoy itand all our effortsat communicationare…