May 16-22, 2022: Poetry from John Stanizzi and Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

Send us your poetry. Click here for submission guidelines.

John Stanizzi

John L. Stanizzi is author of the collections Ecstasy Among Ghosts, Sleepwalking, Dance Against the Wall, After the Bell, Hallelujah Time!, High Tide – Ebb Tide, Four Bits, Chants, Sundowning, POND, and The Tree That Lights The Way Home. John has been widely published and has appeared in Prairie Schooner, The Cortland Review, American Life in Poetry, Praxis, The New York Quarterly, Paterson Literary Review, The Laurel Review, The Caribbean Writer, Blue Mountain Review, Rust + Moth, Tar River, Poetlore, Rattle, Hawk & Handsaw, Plainsongs, Patterson Literary Review, Potato Soup Journal, and many others. His work has been translated into Italian and appears widely in Italy, including in El Ghibli, The Journal of Italian Translations Bonafini, Poetarium, and others.  His translator is the Italian poet, Angela D’Ambra.  He teaches literature at Manchester Community College in Manchester, Connecticut, and lives with his wife, Carol, in Coventry, CT. Visit John on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2022, and owned by John Stanizzi and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

No More Trouble

Cuban Missile Crisis
October 12, 1962
October 28, 1962

It must be that it was intuition
fueled by overheard conversations that
the adults around me were having, their
faces shaded by worry in their eyes,
because I wouldn’t know until later
the things they were trying to hide from me —
the 43 seconds until the end,
the uranium bullet, the vapors
of people that left shadows, the pressure,
the tsunami of smoke, the wind that raged
a thousand miles per hour, the heat of
7000 degrees, the vanishing
of tens of thousands in that instant wrath —
vague debris that razed me each night with fear.

Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

Tiffany Shaw-Diaz is a Pushcart Prize and Dwarf Stars Award nominee who also works as a professional visual artist. She was shortlisted for The Haiku Foundation’s Touchstone Award for Individual Poem in 2020 and won in 2021. Her poetry has been featured in Modern Haiku, The Heron’s Nest, Bones, NHK World Haiku Masters, The Mainichi, and more than 100 other publications. Her chapbooks include: says the rose (Yavanika Press 2019), filth (Proletaria 2020), and tyranny of the familiar (Yavanika Press 2020). Visit her on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2022, and owned by Tiffany Shaw-Diaz and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


i grew up on 
the wrong side of radiation 
a place where trains derailed 
and the sky hailed Satan

you hung the paddle like a cross
and the cross became a bullet

they say chemicals were dumped 
into the water the soil the air
but my blood was poisoned long before 
i took my first step on this earth 

mother once praised you 
by saying you punched 
her pregnant belly only once 

praise God

apparently he was there somewhere
atomically in the crack of our carpet
when you
molested me

when i was 14 i thought it was odd
how i remembered almost nothing prior
to the age of 10

but i remember my sister almost dying
at the age of two
and that cancer was an open secret // grave 
in our town 

when we left 
you took me and my sister back 
one last hurrah in the old house

why we were naked i don’t know
but i do know 
you eventually destroyed those photo negatives

you weren’t a pedophile
of course 
and The Mound didn’t kill
the residents of Miamisburg, Ohio 

Subscribe to our weekly Newsletter: