Gnashing Teeth Publishing

| words that get in your teeth

Hunger Pangs by Julia Wendell

Hunger Pangs
The live oak stamped
on an opaque winter sky,
its branch web intricate
as kirigami.
The chalky sky remains
unattended: taut, blank,
no rain in sight, no wind.
I want to put my nose to it,
rub it on my hands,
add a bauble or two
to those lofty branches.
This artist has a restless hand;
like the blue weaver that preempts
me, flitting
from thread
to thread, alighting
on this web, upsetting
the alterable quiet
with its barbaric yawp
my quiet admiration
of a plan so vastly
incomplete, it is complete:
tree and sky and me,
as I, too, dart
green silk to brown,
thoughts so loosely spun
a sudden breeze
might unravel them.
Am I a mover, shaker,
wind maker, or a naughty
jay, elbowing smaller
mouths out of my way
at the feeder?
I, too,
spit and startle,
spill seed, stuff my gullet,
flutter thoughtless across
the waiting sky,
as scared and hungry
as any.


Julia Wendell’s memoir, Come to the X, is being published by Galileo Press in April, 2020. She lives in South Carolina and is a three-day event rider. When she isn’t riding, she’s usually writing poems.

young woman with red hair smiling at the camera with a white paper umbrella behind her

like pretty tulips by linda m. crate

everything has been hard and heavy, as of late; in my world and the world at large— so yesterday i was drinking in small wonders like pretty tulips dancing out

What I Can Offer You by Rich Orloff

I cannot fix your pain I cannot solve your problem I can’t prevent the sorrow you’re feeling Or even guarantee I’ll make you smile However, because I’ve known Joy embracing

by Natalye Childress

*this poem is in .jpg to preserve formatting *this is the unformatted text of the poem after rainer maria rilke you, the poet, have become world weary, word-wrought. and god

guy with a dark beard and moustache wearing a black graphic tee

Orchards of Udders by Jon Wesick

dripped on the blanket while air rustled tamarind trees. Chekhov drank a Thai iced tea and plummeted out of this poem. A flock of circles twittered in the hacksaw bushes


we love hearing from you. tell us everything

Skip to content