That House

By Mark Saba I sit on a dry patchof colorless earth, an empty lotsituated neatly between two Depression-erabrown and tan brick homes. There is no evidence of charred wood,nor garden of tomato and pepper plants.The lot has shrunken from its three-story home.Now termites have no where to go and bees search aimlessly for phantom flowers.Even … Continue reading That House

Lost Souls

By Mark Saba Light turns on and off.Fine needles fall from the pines,intersections of tree shadowand broken limbs lying ashenin the brown ruin of past lives. The young evergreens stand dwarfedin defiance, their roots nourishedby those who’ve come before.There is too much musicI haven’t heard. It’s out there in the greenof dying summer, lyrics and … Continue reading Lost Souls

Old Shirts

By Mark Saba My beloved T-shirts, worn ragged,washed to the color of dust, yetimprinted with my scent carry everything I’ve witnessed—their first days of my rejuvenation,trial period of comfort, and final stretch of willful obscurity—as I met with triumph and despairwatching the orioles return, my mother die, the sunlight of seawater,my daughter admitted to rehab.In … Continue reading Old Shirts

Tabula Rasa

By Mark Saba Three of my books lie unopened.My wife lies absently on the couchgone to a digital novel world. A fire heaves in its designated hearth.I am in and out of it,in and out of my thoughts as my body grows older.Lacking the courage to write them downI flounder in semi-sleep remembering the title … Continue reading Tabula Rasa

You Consider the Apples

By William Doreski Your apples never ripen but drop green and hard from the tree.A lack of confidence? Sprayingthe flowers to fend off the deermay discourage the fruit that laterdangles like Christmas ornaments. Too much thinking. Like youpondering childhood in Poland,your father repairing scruffy autos from the Soviet Unionand your mother nursing childrenabandoned by unwilling parents. You … Continue reading You Consider the Apples

Poet Laureate

By William Doreski In Walpole, certain streets climbthe ridge to lord it overthe square white village below.I can see your condo from here,tucked in a cluster of roofs. Across the river a freight trainslinks along the shaky rails.Further, the scalloped horizonof the Green Mountains staggersfrom south to north, scoringits persistence into the sky. Your married … Continue reading Poet Laureate

Agriculture Has Come to This

By William Doreski Watering my zinnia sproutsin judgmental glare, I sweatwith fear of future tornados, politics, tick disease, drought. Scholars of the dark warn usthat indigo horizons have warpedand shed disgruntled species.Scholars of noon warn that cold seeps from the marrow to blame usfor evolving with such arrogance,two-legged in a cringing world.Who thought that elbowing us … Continue reading Agriculture Has Come to This

Mountain Laurel in Mason

By William Doreski Nothing personal in splaysof mountain laurel enrichingthe simple hardwood forest. Driving through Mason, we gazeat the surf of white blossomsflaunting without a critique. June days as thick as this onerequire such floral displaysto endorse their other products. Gnats, mosquitoes, and deer fliesgnaw and sip the acres of fleshthey claim as their heritage. … Continue reading Mountain Laurel in Mason

Urn Burial

By William Doreski Two clay urns placed in a fielda hundred years ago collectashes blowing around the world.Male and female from a timewhen sex and gender were one.They’re almost full. This summer I’ll replace the two with several,allowing the ether to siftnon-binary and others intourns of their own. Our ancestorswould understand why secretshave unfolded, exposing … Continue reading Urn Burial

Google translates

By A. Whittenberg a dead language into life replacing the human touchwith automated ruminations  so pee  becomes  a beverage let me explain,  a computer thinks potus is urine  hit refresh  remove the stink A Whittenberg is a Philadelphia native who has a global perspective. If she wasn’t an author she’d be a private detective or a jazz singer. She loves reading about history and … Continue reading Google translates


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Poetry Guidelines

Please send 1 – 5 unpublished poems, with each poem exceeding no more than a single page, in a .doc or .docx format. No .pdfs please! Poems should follow the general submission guidelines, as well as being single spaced and using a standard font. Please note that your formatting may be changed to match Goat’s Milk formatting and to work in our digital format. We strongly suggest against submitting any work that relies on unique or specific spacing structures, as we are unable to format posts in WordPress that way. Multiple works should be submitted as a single document, with page breaks and titles to indicate where one poem ends and the next begins.

Any and all accompanying art or photography is strongly encouraged! The header image should be in a 2:1 ratio and black and white, please. Additional images and multi-media should be sent separately from the .doc or .docx, no .pdfs. Please indicate where you want accompanying art to be placed in poems.

Send poetry submissions to goatsmilksubmissions@gmail.com.

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