Food Stamps by Jacob Lowell When I was 5 years old I would sit with my mother and cut out the coupons in the newspaper, all spread out on the dining room table. They tell me I couldn’t remember being on food stamps; I was only a kid. But I…
Category: Poetry
Slam at the Benton: “Hardwood Laxatives” by Jacob Nelson (2017)
Hardwood Laxatives by Jacob Nelson I think HGTV is trying to redefine what a home is After realizing that at 3000 Sq ft two bedrooms And a home office No one under 35 has a home Open floorplans and hardwood are timeless So they switched greatrooms to microhomes and studios….
Slam at the Benton: “tops of trees” by Jillian Cundari (2017)
tops of trees by Jillian Cundari today for the first time in a long time I saw the tops of trees. I rolled to a near stop in drive at the top of the hill to see the trees and farms rising in heaps and the bubbling people, pushing through…
Slam at the Benton: “Splinter People” by Kelly Stoldt (2017)
Splinter People by Kelly Stoldt My mother has announced her worry That living in a single dorm room is bad for me. She asks if I’ve been socializing If I’ve made friends Leaves out “since the last time.” I tell her I’ve gotten really close with my mattress (It goes…
Slam at the Benton: “The Anthem” by Mary Kozan (2017)
The Anthem by Mary Kozan i. The bungalow colony was in its heydey. Blondes unfurled Their legs on plastic deck chairs, laughing like advertisements Over bottles of Coca-Cola. Their children pissed in the pool and shrieked With joy. Tits sagged in one-piece floral bathing suits. My grandmother (then, in the…
C. Buddingh’ – “The Hyena” – Translated from the Dutch By Matthew Ryan Shelton (2016)
Empirical Science has often shown a reputation up: the old Egyptians held him in high esteem, and Pliny held that the stone he carried in his eye, the hyena, laid under the tongue, would grant him sight, into the future. Alas, all he carries in his eye is a cockeyed…
“The Blood Shed” translation by Ana Arriaga (2015)
Spanish LA SANGRE DERRAMADA ¡Que no quiero verla! Dile a la luna que venga, que no quiero ver la sangre de Ignacio sobre la arena. ¡Que no quiero verla! La luna de par en par. Caballo de nubes quietas, y la plaza gris del sueño con sauces en las barreras….
