Gnashing Teeth Publishing

| words that get in your teeth

Orchards of Udders by Jon Wesick

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

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
rasping songs from lavender throats. The birds feasted
on hull berries, stale-bread cruxes, and old coffee filters.
The flummox jammed his body against the plow.
By midnight, Kurtz reached Botswana,
where King Leopold of Belgium quaked in fear
against the African sun’s sour light.
Native rebellions spilled flesh over Victoria Falls
after hacking illusions with dream blades.
The New York Times offered twenty-five rusted words
on page 3.

Jon Wesick is a regional editor of the San Diego Poetry Annual. He’s published hundreds of poems and stories in journals such as the Atlanta Review, Berkeley Fiction Review, I-70 Review, Lowestoft Chronicle, New Verse News, Paterson Literary Review, Pearl, Pirene’s Fountain, Slipstream, Space and Time, and Underside Stories. His most recent books are The Shaman in the Library and The Prague Deception.

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

snowflake ornaments on a white background with one shaped like a spider web, one like a leaf, and one with the work fuck as each spike of the snowflake

June Said by Mona Mehas

for June Jordan (1936-2002) June said, ‘Life is action.’ When I look up into the sky, I see the stars only because the sky is dark. I catch the scent


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