Sleeping on Otis’ Floor

“Goodnight, asshole,” John says. I see the meaty ghost of his shadow collapse below street-lit window blinds. I hear him thud. He groans like...

Air Bag

i have tasted air bag, it’s a badge of honor, a one-way ticket to epiphany, it tastes like burnt rubber, like powdery words sucked...

On Writing and Craft: An Interview with Lyn Lifshin

This interview first appeared on PoetryCircle in 2006, shortly after the site was founded. PoetryCircle: Lyn, you're probably as prolific as any poet writing today,...

Grab Bag

Suicide Note