Jan 4 2018

“Henry at Henry” by Maria Garcia Teutsch

Henry Rollins has rocked my world for as long as I can remember. When I first heard him sing with Black Flag my body hummed for hours afterwards. Read More >

Jan 3 2018

Low Rent

I grew up in a house
built as budget permitted,
one room at a time,
chicken wire poking
through crude plaster,
walls out of plumb. Read More >

Dec 21 2017

Propaganda and the Alphabet

1) In my ear they whisper their depraved, bourgeois party line: Read More >

Dec 11 2017

As the year comes to its close I feel compelled to write a series of poems each day until the end of the year as protest against the impending pillage of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.

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Nov 23 2017

Sonnet for Donnie Morgan

Some days, in order to survive, we allow ourselves
belief that the posts smashing through the grill
of the Toyota, that the impact of, not one or two, but a whole row
run through, as he veered off the road for reasons
unknown, rendered him unconscious, unaware
he was trapped by twisted wood, angled metal
braces growing hotter on his legs that couldn’t run.
Someone so young, being struck lame, already a god-
damned shame. Now, this violence, this end, crisp glass
in the wind, in our eyes.  We don’t ask what the reports
might say, what ignorance enables us to push away –
him, awake, burning. Some days, his laughter echoes
up the stairs, heaven’s lucent snow.  But mostly,
the house is silence.  Mostly, flame.

Melanie Graham holds a PhD in poetry from the University of Lancaster, UK and recently completed her MFA at Sierra Nevada College. Her poems have appeared in Drunken Boat, Cherry Tree, The Mailer Review, a​nd as a finalist in several competitions, including The Southeast Review, Split This Rock, a​nd S​o To Speak. She won the 2016 Kakalak Poetry Prize. Her poem “Honeybees Returned” for Sylvia Plath is forthcoming in Fat Gold Watch, an anthology dedicated to Plath.

Nov 11 2017

Ways to Divert Rainwater

First, shellac your wide-brimmed hat
with the upturned edges.
Affix it with tubes attached
to bottles on your belt. Go out
in the rain.  Feel mud suck
your toes, gravity slurp laces,
tongues flap cotton fields
riven by rain. Build scaffolds
for your shoes. Go inside, take tea,
empty the bottles that remain
and go again out in the rain. Read More >

Nov 4 2017

Ping-Pong Free Press’ 4th Annual Speech is Not Free gathering: Writers Against Fascism and for Freedom of the Press. Ping-Pong Free Press  and Poet Republik Ltd. gathered at the Howl! Happening Gallery in the Bowery to feature readings by writers who oppose fascism and dictatorships, and who are for freedom of the press and against totalitarian notions of state-sponsored propaganda. Read More >

Oct 16 2017

You there in the corner of the forest–
These are the words of moss covered stones.

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Oct 16 2017

It is fitting that Shelley Marlow should be the inaugural writer for Prose Republik for a number of reasons, a) she’s an outstanding writer, and, b) as we rapidly approach the twin specters of Halloween and El Dia de los Muertos, it is right and proper that this author is a witch. So here’s to all you seekers and wanderers in realms not within our philosophy. If you’d like to share a story, a poem, or a calavera here outside the bounds of this dream within a dream, please do, if not, please enjoy…

The Wind Blew Through Like a Chorus of Ghosts

by Shelley Marlow (new work in progress)

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Aug 12 2017

Dylan Krieger’s collection, no ledge left to love, is the recipient of the Ping-Pong Free Press poetry prize of 2017, chosen by judge and poetry badass, Brian Henry. It is my extreme pleasure to share with you a sneak peek–one of my favorite poems out of this fascinating and essential collection, release date: December 1, 2017. Read More >