Author: Threepenny Editor

Plucked from the fire like Shelley’s broiled heart,an awkward keepsake of the man that was,so I’d salvage from me the core and causeof long-gone thrills, but immolate the partI’m done…

In the photo we stand shoulder to shoulder,seven of us covered in soot and dirtcostumed in masks or respirators,with old t-shirts tied over heads and faces,mismatched work-gloves, wrecking barsand shovels…

I take his elbow, hold her woolly hand,plying the icy channel wherethe parking lot is plowed. He makes a hero's stand,legs misfiring, feet a fugitive pairof convicts chained for work-detail:cheap…

Just one time only ever in my youthmy father laid his hands on me in rage.The ring in Vegas, that crucible of truth,rehearsed a patricide: the Champ, whose agewas greater…

Sophia Starmack

We draw distinctions between life and art,But barriers break down. To our surprise,Sancho and Don Quixote analyzeThe very book in which they're taking part—Pointing out places where the plot's not…

He's grateful for the thought-provoking rigorsShe teaches, but feels he is at bestA dunce who takes her topics and her figuresAnd renders them confusing or absurd:Earnest, he is suspected of…

Mark Stevens

Gene Stone

Laurie Stone