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Emily Izsak :: Three poems from Never Have I Ever

Had Sex With More Than One Person at a Time

Three’s a crowd of dissimilar               fussy diversions   busy   within the story

Four    marbles the allergies
                               We can’t have plain honey   it doesn’t sit
          if it isn’t

 with bandwagons   full to the whim

Enough means surplus   solves a trilogy

 and extra oars    don’t muck

our gut’s   geometry

Had Sex With More Than One Person

Just a couple of hopeless

      hermitic Semitics        consummately  pleased

                                         to worship a less repulsive equilibrium

No offense

          but   tremors have never fed upon

                               petals or meat      too capricious

                                                         to wonder

          how the Finnish finish

What’s restrictive

to those    who see the forest for the tease?

                                                   Plenty of hackneyed mackerel

                                                              plead to be   slingshot   into monogamy

Been Pregnant 

Or felt a radio     dribble

down modest morphology

 dense as anything

Were the pills adverse to similes?
          Swallowed out of context     Loved for mechanistic gestures

Highfalutin leaflets on their nutrient-dense trajectories
while I wisecrack for two

Vomit is true
and tethered with reckless expansion
to unexpected gestalt

Emily Izsak is the author of Whistle Stops: A Locomotive Serial Poem (Signature Editions, 2017), Twenty Five (above/ground press, 2018) and Stickup (shuffaloff/Eternal Network, 2015). Her work has been published in Arc Poetry Magazine, The Puritan, House Organ, Cough, CV2, The Doris, and The Hart House Review. In 2014 she was selected as PEN Canada’s New Voices Award nominee. Emily currently writes clickbait so she can afford rent in Toronto. She also married a doctor, so that helps.

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submissions :: where is the river

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Elidio La Torre Lagares :: Six poems

walking in Rome
male cicadas foretell the sun
the distance of rain as we walk
through Rome on the 25th of July:
the history of Empire

i touch the breath of fireinside
my mouth birds peck at
dormant words under my steps

roads lead into alibis for an idea of time
when tutte strada vanno a Roma

lady Cicadas, on the other hand, treasure
silence around the marbled stories
of Villa Burghese

Sophie walks beside me painting
the air longing dreams
the world conforms a canvasher voice
a ripe fruit that floats
on the Roman landscape

from the hills of Villa Medici the city
spreads like the wings of an eagle of light
constantly diffusing emergingsomehow
the impending clearance of dependences
melts with the gradation of memories the precise
clockwork of stages

with loss and life to gain

clouds travel homeless


The Roman Colosseum-
round as a certainty
or the eye of a hurricane-
was once one of the
seventh wonders
of the world. But, little
is known of it compared
to the years it has outlasted
time and earth…

about :: where is the river

where is the river :: a poetry experiment is a bi-monthly poetry journal open to a variety of aesthetics, forms and experiences, with a preference towards showcasing work by emerging writers. There is no single path, nor any single way. Founded in September 2017. Edited by Kiefer JD Logan.