Sir, my son was lost.
He was home but couldn’t find
home. He said, "Can't they leave a guy alone
when he's been in trouble."
I was really proud
I hoped
I noticed
I waited
I probably sound
I don’t know
I have learned
I won’t have
The night started, started strange.
Nobody seemed clean. These streets
are full of whiskey & widows. Blame other people
for my son. He is now yours.
Kelly Nelson is the author of the chapbook Rivers I Don’t Live By (Concrete Wolf Press, 2014). Her poems published here were created from her uncle’s 500-page prison record and are part of a book-length found poetry project supported by the Arizona Commission on the Arts. Her found poetry has also appeared in Verbatim, Found Poetry Review and NonBinary Review. She teaches Interdisciplinary Studies at Arizona State University.
Kelly Nelson
My Uncle at Nineteen
His Mother Writes
the Warden, 1955
Jon-Michael Frank
Funny How Time Slips Away
Not Fade Away
Jacqueline Jules
Obsolete Angers
J. Bradley
Yelp Review:
Planned Parenthood
of Greater Orlando
Yelp Review:
The Milk Bar
Amy Schriebman Walter
Hope in a Yellow Dress
Miho Kinnas
Earlobes
Mark Povinelli
Notes I
Notes II
Kenneth Nichols
The Best Writers
Bombed the SAT
John Patsynski
The Money Weapon
Aileen Bassis
Pellucid Musing
Travis Macdonald
When the Map's Crease
Becomes an Axis
and Detaches
Kris Hall
Pyromanian I
Pyromanian II
Claire Scott
Harbor Lights
Elizabeth Kate Switaj
Poseidon's Canto