A LITERATI MAGAZINE EXCLUSIVE PREVIEW Mark Antony Owen is a reticent, subtle, yet undeniable force in the outlier indie publishing world. Creator and curator of iamb, a poet directory and quarterly journal inspired by The...

Rachel Deering A cormorant reads the runes before fishing, fastening magic to wing and beak, his body  recalls the water,  how the cold envelops,  neck outstretched  as a divining rod, the shimmer of silver locked in his...

from LM’s The Grieving Season Isioma Jemimah Okonicha He pleaded to his half as he held back a legLying on the ground from where he struggledHe knew he couldn’t live without his halfAnd a survival...

The Grieving & The Rubble of Longing From LM’s Series THE GRIEVING SEASON Dettra Rose THE GRIEVING I followed my ruin and wept under her purple sheets. Neighbours left soup on our doorstep, but never...

Alienor Bombarde there is a yearning, burning feelinginside the house.the house, how itlongs, it clangs and pangs,insists for someone to come in take over the space, paint over the wallsto plaster the holes, fix the...

Katie Adams Counting moments that make up a day onone two threefour fivefingers.Six if you count the lastone. Running them through greasy hair.Noticing a spattering of dark dots. Higgins Waterproof Black Ink. Slimy as an...

During 2020 Literati Magazine was fortunate to showcase work, both visual and written of experiences directly from the protests that sprung up across the United States, despite the difficulties and hazards faced by demonstrators and...

For the first time LITERATI MAGAZINE has selected both Best Of The Net and PUSHCART Nominations. After much heartfelt and difficult deliberation, we have selected the following six nominees: We strive to recognise, promote and...

featured in SEASON OF GRIEVING CHINUA EZENWA – OHAETO I burn with time: a collection of collard moments. And I wonder why some-things defrosts on the sight of some-nothings ― I learnt about this on...

featured in A SEASON OF GRIEVING ADEDAYO AGARAU AUBADE // ALHAJA’S STROKE HANDS IS GOD’S UNDONE MIRACLE   tell me  is there a difference between fire & wrath  this is a love poem about a...

  Featured in A SEASON OF GRIEVING MATHEW PAUST The giants are not going gentle, their Paleo legacy’s doing the Welshman proud- – combustibility of kindreds, raging on road and page. I hear them both...

S E A S O N   O F   G R I E V I N G M A R K   F I D D E S My friend Jay is a blue jay.He talks to...

    D A V I D   A C K L E Y Orphans Of The Storm It was just after dusk, in the darkening before  the streetlights go on in front of the house...

  E D W A R D   B U R K E     ‘strannikov’       yes! folks risk seas as needs arise walk worlds entire under moons from between two lands to between...

    J A Y A N T A  B H A U M I K   IN THE DISCLOSURE   language tiptoeing where your habits wrestle with your fussy heart you let minds eavesdrop...

  J E S S I C A   E V A N S      Martha had just learned how to whistle when her mother abandoned her on the corner of Crestline and Bassett Avenue....

  J E S S I C A   E V A N S     July 2002, Oneida Tennessee It had less to do with 9/11 and more to do with being stuck. If he...

  I S I O M A   J E M I M A H   O K O N I C H A    A solicitor and not solitude, we need. Where words fail and eagles...

E L I Z A B E T H   K I E M All through a winter of rain and closed windows, outside, the birds were singing.‘All night long!’ I insisted to those who assumed...

  J E S S I C A   L E E   B A N K S    L I S T E N  . . .  Featured Audio Poem of the Week   They call...

  C H R I S T O P H E R     R A L E Y     The rain we have hoped for falls in the first days of May straight down...

  D A V I D   A C K L E Y    April 2, 2020 Day 19   I found an old copy of the Bhagavad Gita when I was looking for one of...

L I P S T I C K   &   O T H E R   S E R V I T U D E S  ___________________________________    by A M A    N Y A M...

  D A V I D   A C K L E Y   News from the White House: Larry Kudlow and D.T. discuss the New York Lockdown, from a Whistle-Blower taping the president for his...

  D A V I D   A C K L E Y   Coronavirus in America: Epidemic and the Ideology of Denial Denial is never good. Our wise friend, Irene Robinson. I’ve heard a number...

  E D W A R D   B U R K E    “strannikov”   poetry less than poverty: fair warning to poets, but a good sign. poetry—human poverty’s speaking voice poverty—the substance of each...

   S U S A N   R I C H A R D S O N     The comfort of a drunken fog begins to thaw. It is like this every morning. Anger scratches...

  S T O R I E S   I N   T H E   T I M E   O F   A   P A N D E M I C    P A U L   S .  ...

  E D W A R D   B U R K E    (strannikov)     it would all be remote in five years’ time with much of the worst all over in three: harvesters would...

  D A V I D   L .   A C K L E Y   March 20, 2020 Day 10   Relative to our normal life, quiet, innately reclusive, moderately tranquil, yesterday was a bit...

 ______________________________________________ BLACK LIVES MATTER. Essays In Relevance MILWAUKEE  MARCH. BLACK AND TIRED “On Saturday May 30th, 2020,  I went to document a peaceful protest on behalf of Black Lives Matter,  in response to the recent events...

  S T O R I E S   I N   T H E   T I M E   O F   A   P A N D E M I C _____________________________   C H R I S...

  R O B E R T   O K A J J     Balancing the chair on two legs, you claim no past, and gravity, though complicit in the future, aligns itself with the...

  A M Y   S O R I C E L L I     When your hair fell out it was in soft wisps. Had you been a child, we would have saved it...

  A M Y   S O R I C E L L I     Madeline’s mom does not have the same glasses as Madeline, though they share the same eyes. She throws her head...

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A M Y  S O R I C E L L I I don’t leave my head, but it seems you are on a mountain with just your camera. You climbed it without a crew,...

L I P S T I C K   &   O T H E R   S E R V I T U D E S __________________________________________ C A N D I C E   K E L...

  L I P S T I C K   &   O T H E R   S E R V I T U D E S __________________________________________   C A N D I C E   K...

  C A N D I C E   K E L S E Y    1974 I held my mother’s hand as we walked – two expatriates running errands through Stanley Market south of the Carmelite...

  S T O R I E S   I N   T H E   T I M E   O F   A   P A N D E M I C  __________________________________________________   D A V I D  ...

  R O B E R T   O K A J I     This road leads nowhere. I live at its end where breezes wilt and the sun still burns my darkened skin. I’ve...

  S T O R I E S   I N   T H E   T I M E   O F   A   P A N D E M I C ______________________________________________ M A T H E W...

  W I L L  S C H M I T     My friend took a job impersonating hollyhock outside the detox cell window. The first day he stood in a long stoop to...

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  E W A      M A Z I E R S K A     I started going to this café, called ‘Blackpool Cafe’, shortly after I moved to Blackpool, in mid-September. It was...

  W I L L   S C H M I T   I planted strawberries for the inheritors of the earth whether they be meek, or Martians. These modern poems require letters to stand up...

  R O B E R T   O K A J J   I switch on the lamp. What have you done, I ask.   Too much, I confess. Too little. Shading my eyes with...

  S A N D Y   K N I G H T It’s never going to be the same when I touch your cool hard steel firm inside my palm you won’t fail to...

  P A U L   S .   L .   B R O O K E S   You Meet eternity in a shopping queue if you don’t keep your distance. Eternity in the hand, or...

    N I N A    S Z A R K A Poem for our Dead   I am holding my death toll in my hands like a small harp There are strings for weeping,...

ANDREW C .  BROWN In times of perpetual lockdownI listen to the words of Patrick Jonesas Helen watches Escape to the Chateau.Welsh Patrick visited me in my convict bonesjingling, jangling his metres of metre in...

  D A V I D   A C K L E Y     March 12, 2020 As did Defoe, I am beginning this after the plague began, but then it came on so rapidly...

  A R I E L   D A W N   I Forgot the Earth Saturday nights we hold each other against the ivy wall in Old Town. Leaves, newspapers, grey birds rise and fall...

  R O S E   M O N T C L A I R E   I have known for some time, that I am nothing to you. To all those, who profit from not...

  D O N A L D   V I N C E N T     Life bustles on the outskirts of flair tombs. Decadent homes for the dead are heirlooms: The school children at...

S T O R I E S   I N   T H E   E R A   O F   A   P A N D E M I C _______________________________________________   P H O T O    E...

  L I P S T I C K   &   O T H E R   S E R V I T U D E S   _________________________________________   C L A I R E   ...

  S T O R I E S  I N   T H E   T I M E   O F   A   P A N D E M I C __________________________________________   H E L E...

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  M A T T    D U G G A N   Watching the rain on a slant like a cat -staring through glass awaiting that moment of release; where we grew into our chains...

  W I L L   S C H MI T T     I spoke to my father, the dead one about the colored glass blowing off Paula’s porch. I mentioned the voice lessons, working...

R i c h a r d – Y v e s  S i t o s k i     One 7:30 a.m. is denied entry streets wide open like veins with a stent...

  R  a c h e l   S t e t e n f e l d     They’re “social distancing” us at the hotel restaurant in Mumbai—guiding us each, individually, to tables six...

  R O B E R T  B O U C H E R O N   Daddy didn’t want any more children, because they would probably be boys, and the army would take them....

  Z I G G Y  D I C K S     My road is car-swollen as the sun, a pink blister is antennae-lanced leaking crows to trees House windows yawn as half drawn...

  As part of the inauguration of  L I P S T I C K   &  O T H E R   S E R V I T U D E S, I am very honoured...

  R O D   M I L L E R   I had to touch my face before my head exploded. After a month of being told not to, because I would singlehandedly steepen the...

  S T O R I E S   I N   T H E   T I M E   O F   A   P A N D E M I C ________________________________________________   The Pandemic Elections N I...

  J O S E P H    F A S A N O     I'm sharing a poem a day during these isolating times, because #poetry keeps the soul company. Since @LiteratiMagzine asked...

Worth Repeating; a note from Literati Magazine’s Editor.   Late last year I happened upon a piece by Mike Smith, which led me to his website, where I found several posts on Vassily Grossman’s STALINGRAD. ...

  M I K E   F O X   Avie   The thing I remember most, the thing I suppose I’m stuck with, is her smell. There was something feral about it. It would keep...

  N I N A    S Z A R K A   I cannot be the only person who has cried this week in a grocery store next to an empty bath tissue shelf...

  J A M E S   L L O Y D    D A V I S     You learn, not long after you’ve learned to walk, to love the imperfection in an otherwise perfect...

  R I C H A R D   S U B B E R   My friend was bowed, burdened by vain striving, his eyes unlighted, focused beyond my gaze, he breathed the word: succor...

  G A R Y   P E R C E S E P E     i left a place where                          ...

  G A R Y    P E R C E S E P E   I cannot remember the hour. The tables were shining with laughter. An orchestra assembled on the wide polished floor which...

  G A R Y   P E R C E S E P E   the moon is dead tonight   it stares blankly from   its one good eye not a breath  ...

G A R Y   P E R C E S E P E   for jennifer   That winter in Buffalo it would not stop snowing. I sat in bed looking out the tall window....

  R H I A N N O N    D’ A V E R C    GLASS   The surface of the water was like glass as she gazed into it. Aubree stared as hard...

S T A N    S M I T H   NOTES AND DISQUISITIONS   Aeschylus (525-456 BC) is credited with inventing modern tragedy by introducing a second actor, the antagonist. He fought in the...

  Nick Gerrard   Outside the triumphal arch stands the orange bike and grill. Behind it stand I, Waffle Paul. I am also dressed in orange, with a shiny pink head. Steam is coming out...

Milkweed Editions, in partnership with Copper Nickel, is pleased to announce that Kathryn Smith has won the 2019-20 Jake Adam York Prize. For her poetry collection Self-Portrait with Cephalopod, selected by francine j. harris, Smith will...

  Last evening PEN America presented its 2020 PEN America Literary Awards winners live at  The Town Hall in New York City, hosted by Seth Meyers.   Conferring prizes worth upwards of $330,000 to writers...

  L A R S  J A N S E N   The New Modern Northern Zoological park, or New Northern Zoo is where I took my kids on Saturdays. There were two of them,...

CHRISTOPHER RALEY   Rain draped days in music, roads in rhythm, nights in song. I thought of you sometimes, in theory; the same way I would think words like sovereignty or predestination. True words after...

CHRISTOPHER RALEY   Smoke casts over sky burning cities of the north, and moon rises red. Charles whips the fly, and I look on as it sings and drops on still water. It must have...

  CHRISTOPHER  RALEY   She sat like a ghost outside the circle of the living, back straight, eyes averted upward. We clapped for our children and remembered their beginnings. Her mouth twisted toward her set...

Christopher Raley   i. Lighthouse strobe winks through cracked curtains. Hotel room is darker than this city’s night. In the alley below a man grates complaint through phlegm as if digging it out of loose...

  Christopher Raley   We walked, my son and I, along the bluffs when everything was moving: By hands of wind, all moved. Yellow grass swayed and bowed, green waves swelled long and rolled straight....

It’s sugar for sugar and salt for salt. If you go down in the flood, it will be your own fault. BD Anxious pessimists lift their eyes, scan the skies predicting rain, muttering of impending...

I miss the way you’d wrap around, fingers like metal fences: Sheltering me from a world so mean to you, you believed pain to be the status quo.I fed on your sleepless nights and stretched...

©Literati Magazine 1999-2020. All rights reserved       DAVID  FRANKEL   As the First World War passes out of living memory, its centenary gives us the opportunity to commemorate the loss of life, but...

 P A T R I C K   F A L L E R    I’m classroom-bound, late to leave. At home my wife’s waiting. Outside, a light snow is falling. Down the hall: footsteps; the...

   R I C H A R D   S U B B E R     We call them wild animals. This betrays a heedless frame of mind, a careless dismissal of their lives and...

 about dichotomy by Lori McCray There is no sound without silence. No joy without sorrow.                                                          No love without conditions. I once lived in a world of black                                                     and white, of either/or, of hardly ever both....

  by Shahzeb Ahkter   Metamorphoses. book II.   weeping to the engraved grave lies neath which a ‘daring and high spirit’ by the river Eridanus, Clymene and the clement sisters beat their bosoms; the father...

                                                   P A U L  S. L.  B R O O K E S     Strangers with grabby sticks, hi vis vests, hoodies against May showers, hauling open grey wheely bins either side...

N I N A     S Z A R K A   I wonder what it’s like To go to the doctor And not have to decide which Thing will break me. I tell him...

N O E L L E   G I A C O   Sugar slips down this hourglass protected inside shimmering bulbs, counting down my possibilities as I run out of sweetness. Mellow crystals of the...

P A T R I C K   F A L L E R Months’ve passed. The peanut shells we tossed into the unglazed bowl you hand-threw in pottery class wear their edges like frayed ends...

    by Jason Stelzner   Sister, I hear your voice but cannot see you here, where you walk beside me; here where you forded the last lonely river, leaving me lost on mortality’s bitter...

P A T R I C K     F A L L E R   He was from Maryland, and hers; taller than me by a foot or more; & focused like horses: blind to...

    P A T R I C K     F A L L E R     At dusk, my father whooped, clapped two-by-fours. Then he scoured clean the grill’s grate. Turning a patty...

  N O E L L E   G I A C O      Outside the cafe, the bees do their waggle dance as I get lost trying to follow their directions. Next to my...

My friend says I should Imagine I am Sealing you in an envelope The reinforced kind And mailing you to Siberia. But the thing is I’ve always wanted to visit Siberia In fact There is...

Nathanael O’ Reilly Dark Angel The waitress balancesplates on her wrist glides between tablesbar and kitchen dressed in blackjokes with customers earns her wageslike a prima ballerina the dark angel at my tablecalls out orders...

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