Issue The First: Welcome to Ovenbird


To be read

Final Soliloquy Of The Interior Decorator
On the counter, a bowl of oranges, a book called
Cooking in the Basque Country. He put Scriabin on the player
very low, opened the window so the gardenia
scent crept in. It was after all the heart of summer.
continue reading

The Haunting
I chased a spot of clear air.

Your eyes were every light in the house
continue reading

Wild Women
Can I act like an angel if I live like a jerk? Can I keep disguising my sensitivity with parties and verve?
continue reading

Love Poem for People Who Hate Themselves: Heaven and Hell
I’m forced to watch through the eyes of the animal that brought me here, the animal I’m trapped inside of, confused and untamable.
continue reading

Love Poem for People Who Hate Themselves: Reading Celan on Labor Day
Beneath the veil of this whitewashed, sun-fucked sky, it’s hard to see.
continue reading

The Caged Girl Wishes That The Man in the Volcano Was Free Like Her
…and we all know that people have been visiting
his body all day to wish that they’d get laid. Or that their fathers wouldn’t die.
Or that their ex-lovers would or would not get a blade to the eye.
continue reading

Physical Therapy—or—I’ll Stick With My
the year of the root canal & bodies
dropping from the sky,

I’ll keep my metonymic
guts under wraps
continue reading

The Basket
The three words
He wants from his lover

Are not I love you,
But Do it again.
continue reading

Ars Poetica
I’d like      to Write

My name          There
continue reading


To be overheard

Ambushed by Profundity
Stylistically, it’s an adventurous collection, ranging from short lyric to longer free verse meditations and elegies to bulky prose poems that tend toward narrative. Booth’s poems roam through childhood and adolescence, repeating characters and subjects from family life and the speakers’ hometowns. The general concern here is loss. The titles are interesting. There’s an epigraph from “East Coker.” Ok, go. continue reading

The Masculine Disposition
The book begins with the line, “a word falls because I ask of it”: so yes, it’s about language…which, well, we’ve all seen. Ahem. But I never felt ivory-towered or outside of the poem: it’s more intimate and raw, letting us piece together the world, continue reading

Some Words

from our editor

Ugh: Our Contemporary Love Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s