Gulf Coast Online Exclusives


Fragments and Farewell Songs

Song Lin, transl. by Dong Li

The retreating autumn deepens in the city. Water turns from silver to maroon. A fisherman smokes on the bank, looking at the rising tide. The dark tones in the landscape are often overlooked. The bank, grey in the fog.


Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction   

2 Poems

Louise Mathias

Vexed light on dune evening primrose. The mineral lands denuded, / this still hurts.

Cold-Hardy

Kelsey Englert

The yellow powder blankets my car as thick as the snow that never falls here. For the first time in thirty years, I am allergic. Everyone smokes for comfort and so grows the communal cough.

3 Poems

Eleni Sikelianos

in a place where one grass blade makes / the next grass blade’s shade / that grass blade made / the next grass blade’s root

2 Poems

Louise Mathias

Vexed light on dune evening primrose. The mineral lands denuded, / this still hurts.

From the Archives

Wildflower

David E. Yee

And when there were no more to kill, I kicked the flowers, sent bursts of petals coursing through the air. My legs got tired—I wrapped fingers around stems, started ripping them up, choked them into a bouquet too big for my hands...

Excerpts from Katabasis Ex-Voto

Carla Faesler; Trans. Karen Lepri

We moved on low power since the noise neutralizers haven’t thawed from everything. We found rudimentary structures seemingly abandoned...

The Field of Rooms and Halls

Richard Siken

1 A man found a door and hung it on the wall. I think he thought in rectangles, each day's bright panel pushed one against the next, a calendar of light.…

Baba

K-Ming Chang

But in another language, in my father’s mouth, there is a tenderness to the tone he takes, so that the word beat overlaps with other words, some of them meaning I miss you. He says beat as if the word shares a border with laughter. As if it is just a lost synonym for love.

From the Blog

D.A. Powell on "The Mad Place" of Poetry

"You can use language and be absolutely true to what you’re saying, and at the same time people have an opportunity to misread it as something scintillating…

Engaging the Mystery: The Anagogic Poetry of Lucie Brock-Broido

Last March, Lucie Brock-Broido died at the age of 61. She left behind four collections, and the work within was characterized as “spooky,” “haunted,” or…