#boaat press

[lifeinpoetry]

Remember

when I didn't go outside? No more

                    my sickness unspoken. I am

                                        alive with it. I have to be

                                               explicit in order to be seen.

— Anna Meister, from “Upon Missing a Dose of Effexor on Memorial Day,” published in BOAAT

[whenharrymetsallys]

I boil my stock exclusively with wishbones.

On the seventh day God says: what you’ve got is virgin charm & a knife in your pocket by Katie Condon

[acehotel]

It’s Just That I’m Not Really Into Politics

by Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib

Boaat Press is a stalwart ship in the night, putting out signals in the form of poems published in books, chapbooks and in their online publishing platform. This poem is from that ship.

This month (and all months) we tip our hats to the poets we’re reading. 

[lifeinpoetry]

auri                             you say my name

                                   like a damned flute

auri                             & i turn slower than worlds

your lips are there & my lips are there & oh god

i love you i love you i love you & was the freest me                 right then.

— Aurielle Marie, from “Like A Freedom Too Strange to Be Conquered,” published in BOAAT

[lifeinpoetry]

I think I’m trying to forgive myself

for the thought, not the act. For considering

the river, the bare window, the glut

of mornings without sun. For birthing the future

& turning away. And this body that bears only men—

I want to forgive.

— Chelsea Dingman, from “I Am In This World, But Not Of This World,” published in BOAAT

[lifeinpoetry]

What god criminalizes creation? Mine                                              

divine. Mine of my own hands. Mine of a prayer arrowheaded in silence, my body a steed I ride to sabotage

— Kristin Chang, from “Etymology of butch,” published in BOAAT

[lifeinpoetry]

           He says, says, water means nothing            You did not learn this            ache from me.

— Nic Alea, from “Father,” published in BOAAT

[lifeinpoetry]

What spells are left to us, I will root them out. What I know about forests is they always grow back.

— Ann V. Devilbiss, from “Spell to Raise the Dead,” published in BOAAT