Poem of the Month
No Justice No Peace

By Blossom Thom

Published on September 1, 2017

Another bloody body
another child dying while

doing the unthinkable
eating food, going home,
eyes meeting impatient suspicion.

A foal’s folly
but great herds require young
colts. Hashtag memorials meld misery and knowing

into action. They were,
just kids—playing, sleeping, walking—who
knew the koan: What’s my

life worth?
Lived everyday in its shadow.
Maintained, sustained, then attained

Neither peace nor relief.
One plus one plus one more
Prayer doesn’t help anyone

Quests for forgiveness quell guilt,
request loved ones rush through grieving while
remaining silent and tired.

So tired of untruth.
So tired of vigilantes.
So tired of wrongful deaths.

So tired of xenophobes.
So tired of your acceptance.
So tired 

More Poetry


Indeed you miss the point, my friend. It does stand stubbornly guarding mile after mile of soft and useless dust and wind out of the north with a low whine and the lying mouth of the news— the bitch!—the words and weather both are cutting.


There’s the country somewhere outside the car.
The country where the elm fucks the maple
and the elm broods as if auditioning
for a new PBS miniseries.


platonic / platinum. I could lick the hair of his arms to smell the sunlight but let the lilac air wheel-speak our sympathies.