Category Archives: Poetry

#2 – 26 Things Emotionally Strong People Do

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Today DMC is Three! We are celebrating by publishing the top-ten most-read posts from the last year!

1. Emotionally Strong people are less discouraged by the stresses and discouragements of life than people who aren’t Emotionally Strong people.

2. Emotionally Strong people are able to unemotionally express their emotional needs.

3. Emotionally Strong people don’t focus on the hurdle itself, but on the nourishing Light near and around and on the hurdle.

4. Emotionally strong people eat correctly and exercise the right, and correct way.

5. Emotionally Strong people are able to recover quickly from the emotionally harmful nature of emotional wounds i.e. rejection, failure, or when Whole Foods is out of umeboshi paste.

6. Emotionally strong people get the amount of sleep they need, and understand how to best navigate their own specific and Loving sleep patterns.
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#5 – While Watching the Music Video for “Only One” at Midnight, Kanye West Walks Into the Fog Holding His Daughter in His Arms and I Can See the Clouds Outside of My Window Parting Into Two Wings

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As we approach our 3rd anniversary on February 6th, we are counting down the top-ten most-read posts from the last year.
& there, gentle smoke cleaved by a small girl’s face
looking into the eyes of her father as if it is the first time &
the shape of her own eyes are a gift from a buried woman
& I realize this part of the performance is not for us
& maybe all life is the years being plucked from our arms
like rose petals & cast into the fields by some god
until we are nothing but alone & eager for the rain
& the mist that rises from it & carries our voices
to those who have survived the wreckage we left &
Kanye West is alone on the screen now & he is alone
in the rain & he is alone clutching the heavy air like he knows
that there is something living inside of it &
I know what it is to never actually be alone
I know what it is to think you are alone &
instead be in the arms of an entire family &
I hear my mother’s voice in the threatening
of the sky & the small silence that comes after lightning
pulls its bright dress over the dark of night &
this is something the wind cannot paint over
even as the clouds are split from each other Continue reading

#6 – Three Poems (#2) – April Ranger

As we approach our 3rd anniversary on February 6th, we are counting down the top-ten most-read posts from the last year.
Not A Mother

for Purvi Patel, sentenced to 20 years prison in Indiana for feticide and child neglect after miscarrying a fetus, April 2015

How you bled & bled
till you nearly died,
but how you wanted to live:
trusted those bald hospital walls,
gloved hands, sheets clean
as preacher’s speech.
Wrists cuffed, knees spread,
body splayed, courtroom bench
your emergency room bed – the bed
you made, they’ll say.

And how I have praised
my own sudden blood:
my red verdict spelled plain
in the folds of my underwear:
my private sentence, a free woman’s walk
to the drugstore. How I swallowed pills
before and after. How I’ve danced.
How I danced till I sweat
when my blood arrived
one month after
he carried me home,
refused the condom Continue reading

#8 – On Prince -Eve Ewing

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As we approach our 3rd anniversary on February 6th, we are counting down the top-ten most-read posts from the last year.


Drunk in a Midnight Choir - 4.22.2016 edited-page-001


record shopEve L. Ewing is a Chicago-born essayist, poet, editor, and visual artist. Her work has been published in Poetry, The New Yorker, The Nation, The New Republic, Union Station, In These Times, and the anthology The Breakbeat Poets: New American Poetry in the Age of Hip-Hop. She has been a Pushcart Prize nominee, a finalist for the Pamet River Prize, and a scholarship recipient for the New Harmony Writers Workshop. She is one half of the writing collective Echo Hotel (the other half is poet, essayist, and critic Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib). She loves cookies and bikes.

Three Poems – Kathleen Radigan



Susannah says, When
a sheep decides it’s time
to die, it’s time.

The flock swats flies.
Prays for elegant ascent.
You’ll dot the sky.
Insomniacs will count you.

If death’s a water bed between worlds,
wade to the other trough.
Rise over fence-blades seared with sun.
Bray in a field of animal light.
Wind-hoofed, weightless.

When Earth goes belly up,
does soul cleave from body and balloon
over the roof where roses climb walls?
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#9 – Three Poems – Nicole Homer


Our third anniversary is on February 6th. This week we are counting down the top-ten most-read posts from the last year.


A Running List of Questions I Plan to Ask the Never-Married Girl Who Routinely 
Puts Down Married Sex and Who, Coincidentally, is Fucking My Husband

Do you know cute your arrogance is?
Why is it, exactly, you imagine his body is, only with you,
something snatched from an ee cummings poem?

Do you think you make it quite a new thing?
Have you heard the expression that steel against steel is sharpened?
Which part of me did you think you saw rust on?

Where do you think he learned practiced perfected everything you so enjoy?
How big is your alone? Do you set a place for it at the table or
is it a lapdog, hiding in your purse, and growling at sweet smelling strangers?

What were your parents like? Did you ever hear them in the night?
Did you think they were arguing?
All of those tricks of his –

where do you think he learned them?
Did you think you weren’t one of them? Continue reading

#10 – a lineage

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Our third anniversary is on February 6th. We are counting down the top ten most-read posts from the last year.


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Dried Flowers and Spit Out Seeds


My great grandmother created a quilt
for each of her great granddaughters,
to be gifted to us when we became married.

My mother kept my stitched together quilt inside her house
until I deserved to receive it. I loved sunflowers
when I was a girl. When I was engaged, I was given
a beautiful sunflower quilt at my wedding shower.

I did not sell it or give it away, but it is not mine anymore.
I wasn’t allowed to keep it after my marriage failed to last.
I didn’t deserve it after my sad non-traditional dreams
warped into a bloody onslaught of nightmares.
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Three Poems – Malcolm Friend


drunk-in-a-midnight-choir-poetry-submission-page-001 Continue reading

The Berrigan Sonnets – Diannely Antigua

Nicolas Carone - 1957

Nicolas Carone – 1957


You heard a crazy woman was put in an ambulance down on 6th.
Here, you are mourning it like a false bottom opening into eight greedy mouths.
You have to be unafraid of floating in the corner of the room,
the breath goes though it’s not plugged in to the telephone.
And these are your faded red ribbons, your best looking
funeral. You are going to be confident in your ankled denim, like sparks
spotlit long after the lights go out. Sometimes
you wonder if we are fashioned out of our aunts, fierce
birds full of teeth, horrifying the bars or the post office, which is to say there is no hope
for another bus to Saint Paul, to play like old pictures.
You hoped for 6 or 7 minutes marked like carpet when a door slams, saying Continue reading