Category: Poetry

  • VIDEO: Phillipe Chatelain talks about ‘taking shots alone’ (prod. by Carmen Guzman)

    VIDEO: Phillipe Chatelain talks about ‘taking shots alone’ (prod. by Carmen Guzman)

    I had the opportunity to work with my very special friend Carmen Guzmán to put together this short video about my latest poetry series taking shots alone. 

  • I am with you in Allston – by Phillipe Chatelain

    I am with you in Allston – by Phillipe Chatelain

    i am with you in allston – poem by phillipe chatelain Phillipe Martin Chatelain is a hoodlum from the Bronx, New York. He writes poetry and is founder and Managing Editor of In Parentheses Literary Magazine. A recent graduate of Boston University, his first chapbook taking shots alone has been independently released and his poetry can…

  • On the morning of oblivion…by G. Mramor

    On the morning of oblivion…by G. Mramor

    On the morning of oblivion I rise with the mourning star. I move through the crowds and let our shoulders bump, our hands touch, our eyes wonder. In the park light dazzles children climbing hills, dashing fields, running the jungle gyms lords of all.  And in the cafes hairy legs and summer dresses, grizzly beards…

  • Belief…by G. Mramor

    Belief…by G. Mramor

    Can you mock me so, because I wish to believe? Can you attack me so, because I wish to believe? Can you hate me so, because I wish to believe? But what is my belief, that makes me so? That is rapturous and deadly. That in my hand is a paper timeless and in my…

  • The father is gone…by G. Mramor

    The father is gone…by G. Mramor

    I have not returned to set the bones in my father’s body. I have come, and these with me, we bear the oils and the cloak. Our sisters will make the words and the procession, we will mourn for centuries. But we will take him over these city walls to a city farther and there…

  • I Knew you were my Sister by Brittney Bullock

    I Knew you were my Sister by Brittney Bullock

    Ever since the frosted tops of mountains cut their names into the sky and struck that brilliant chord, making their magnificent sound heard all throughout the land and almost making us cry, we spilled our guts to each other like little lambs in their final hours, declaring “Freedom” as our name, making us fully willing…