Independence Day
By Truth Thomas
There are fists making tom toms of eardrums,
boots kicking downbeats in skulls,
in every state of tinted circles.
We the trapped traps bear marks
of all their sticks and mallets,
Independence Day
By Truth Thomas
There are fists making tom toms of eardrums,
boots kicking downbeats in skulls,
in every state of tinted circles.
We the trapped traps bear marks
of all their sticks and mallets,
Continue reading→
Self-Existence
By Truth Thomas
Wolves know value of howling tests,
how woods will jump at their alarms
and fight-back canines do not bluff
when rallied round the hunter’s barn.
And fight-back canines bared is school
… Continue reading→
In its short history, Radius has been blessed to publish poems and essays that are not only excellently written, but also artistically and personally brave. We’re consistently flabbergasted by the quality of the work that passes our threshold.
So … Continue reading→
Code Silver
By Truth Thomas
Pain cries policeman to sleep—patrolman,
retired, 35. Philadelphia. Back problem.
Bullet problem, lodged like muzzle flash
memories, traffic stop shots. Philadelphia.
Officer down. Officer up. Out. Decorated.
News for … Continue reading→
It’s difficult for us to think of ourselves as a New England periodical. Aside from the fact that the editors live here, Radius exists in sort of a nether zone, both everywhere and nowhere. Our regular contributors are scattered around … Continue reading→