Rattle Poetry
@rattlepoetry.bsky.social
#Poetry without pretension since 1995. Rattle is a publication of the Rattle Foundation, an independent 501(c)3, and not affiliated with any other organization.
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The Muse has found her capitalist gig
and whispers to the chatbot: Sing for me.
She’s cracking vaults that no one thought to rig.
—Alexander Pepple
and whispers to the chatbot: Sing for me.
She’s cracking vaults that no one thought to rig.
—Alexander Pepple
Jailbreak in A Minor by Alexander Pepple - Rattle: Poetry
The oldest cons were always dressed in verse— Siren songs luring sailors onto rocks, love letters penned to raid a […]
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December 7, 2025 at 5:57 PM
The Muse has found her capitalist gig
and whispers to the chatbot: Sing for me.
She’s cracking vaults that no one thought to rig.
—Alexander Pepple
and whispers to the chatbot: Sing for me.
She’s cracking vaults that no one thought to rig.
—Alexander Pepple
Old Maid, we whispered, like the card game where the loser gets stuck with the singleton queen.
—Julie Kane
—Julie Kane
Old Maid: A PechaKucha by Julie Kane - Rattle: Poetry
She was our father’s only sister. Being Irish and the eldest child and only daughter, she was doomed to take care of her invalid mother. Old Maid, we whispered, like the card game where the loser gets...
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December 5, 2025 at 2:48 PM
Old Maid, we whispered, like the card game where the loser gets stuck with the singleton queen.
—Julie Kane
—Julie Kane
I’m a loser in the eyes of the living,
but a star in the glow of the afterlife …
—José Enrique Medina
but a star in the glow of the afterlife …
—José Enrique Medina
Encore! Encore! Encore! by José Enrique Medina - Rattle: Poetry
When the dead crawl out of the walls,
I do a strip tease. Show off my big belly
scribbled with hairs, chicken legs,
hands and feet yellow as Bart Simpson.
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December 4, 2025 at 3:39 PM
I’m a loser in the eyes of the living,
but a star in the glow of the afterlife …
—José Enrique Medina
but a star in the glow of the afterlife …
—José Enrique Medina
May you find healing
before you find a weapon.
—Manuel Iris
before you find a weapon.
—Manuel Iris
Prayer for a Potential Mass Murderer, a Future School Shooter by Manuel Iris - Rattle: Poetry
May you find healing
before you find a weapon.
May you find a safe place to cry
before you find a weapon.
www.rattle.com
December 3, 2025 at 4:51 PM
May you find healing
before you find a weapon.
—Manuel Iris
before you find a weapon.
—Manuel Iris
Sit by a clean window
in your most comfortable chair.
—Jeff Worley
in your most comfortable chair.
—Jeff Worley
How to Read Billy Collins by Jeff Worley - Rattle: Poetry
Sit by a clean window
in your most comfortable chair.
If it’s morning, a cup of coffee.
Later in the day, a glass of Chardonnay.
www.rattle.com
December 2, 2025 at 2:44 PM
Sit by a clean window
in your most comfortable chair.
—Jeff Worley
in your most comfortable chair.
—Jeff Worley
Gratitude has never fired a gun
or met a dog it didn’t love.
—Abby E. Murray
or met a dog it didn’t love.
—Abby E. Murray
The Problem with Gratitude by Abby E. Murray - Rattle: Poetry
It is the mind’s youngest child, one of the most stubborn of human emotions. Gratitude obeys occasionally and often arrives […]
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November 30, 2025 at 5:40 PM
Gratitude has never fired a gun
or met a dog it didn’t love.
—Abby E. Murray
or met a dog it didn’t love.
—Abby E. Murray
The moon is already high and bright,
and like so many things in my life,
I have missed it.
—Brent Fisk
and like so many things in my life,
I have missed it.
—Brent Fisk
Penumbra by Brent Fisk - Rattle: Poetry
I remember too late
and rush out the front door, stand
shoeless halfway down the sidewalk.
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November 28, 2025 at 5:50 PM
The moon is already high and bright,
and like so many things in my life,
I have missed it.
—Brent Fisk
and like so many things in my life,
I have missed it.
—Brent Fisk
Then sippy cups, then velcro
shoes and shirts with snaps
instead of buttons.
—Thomas Mixon
shoes and shirts with snaps
instead of buttons.
—Thomas Mixon
The Kids’ Table Was First to Go by Thomas Mixon - Rattle: Poetry
Then sippy cups, then velcro
shoes and shirts with snaps
instead of buttons. Then you
were different on weekends.
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November 27, 2025 at 4:05 PM
Then sippy cups, then velcro
shoes and shirts with snaps
instead of buttons.
—Thomas Mixon
shoes and shirts with snaps
instead of buttons.
—Thomas Mixon
Reposted by Rattle Poetry
Happy to share my poem “Bullet” from the new issue of @rattlepoetry.bsky.social
November 27, 2025 at 9:51 AM
Happy to share my poem “Bullet” from the new issue of @rattlepoetry.bsky.social
If you have to send us a heartbreak poem,
make sure it includes a pronoun and not just a feeling.
—Gray Davidson Carroll
make sure it includes a pronoun and not just a feeling.
—Gray Davidson Carroll
Queer Poetry by Gray Davidson Carroll - Rattle: Poetry
Send us a queerer poem, the editor says.
We love your writing but prefer the gay stuff.
www.rattle.com
November 25, 2025 at 4:46 PM
If you have to send us a heartbreak poem,
make sure it includes a pronoun and not just a feeling.
—Gray Davidson Carroll
make sure it includes a pronoun and not just a feeling.
—Gray Davidson Carroll
I liked how tired I was and how little
I cared about anything dying or having
happened in my life …
—Kai Carlson-Wee
I cared about anything dying or having
happened in my life …
—Kai Carlson-Wee
Bullet by Kai Carlson-Wee - Rattle: Poetry
I liked to ride the train in the morning
when fog burned away from the bay
and the sky was filled with birds.
www.rattle.com
November 24, 2025 at 4:06 PM
I liked how tired I was and how little
I cared about anything dying or having
happened in my life …
—Kai Carlson-Wee
I cared about anything dying or having
happened in my life …
—Kai Carlson-Wee
Each age has its slang, its giggle water, whatever
they consider the cat’s pajamas …
—Alexandra Umlas
they consider the cat’s pajamas …
—Alexandra Umlas
Teaching the Twenties in 12th Grade Humanities (or 6-7) by Alexandra Umlas - Rattle: Poetry
Everything is roars – the auto, the crime,
the market, the dress across the floor, the jazz,
the market crash, the flapper, they want to know more.
www.rattle.com
November 23, 2025 at 4:09 PM
Each age has its slang, its giggle water, whatever
they consider the cat’s pajamas …
—Alexandra Umlas
they consider the cat’s pajamas …
—Alexandra Umlas
The dog refuses to eat. I keep filling her bowl
anyway: new kibble on top of old, hoping
that it will suddenly becoming tempting.
—Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz
anyway: new kibble on top of old, hoping
that it will suddenly becoming tempting.
—Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz
Things That Happen During Pet Sitting … by Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz - Rattle: Poetry
The dog refuses to eat. I keep filling her bowl anyway: new kibble on top of old, hoping that it […]
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November 22, 2025 at 7:10 PM
The dog refuses to eat. I keep filling her bowl
anyway: new kibble on top of old, hoping
that it will suddenly becoming tempting.
—Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz
anyway: new kibble on top of old, hoping
that it will suddenly becoming tempting.
—Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz
Ah, look
at all the modest despots
reading their poems about
peace.
—Sherman Alexie
at all the modest despots
reading their poems about
peace.
—Sherman Alexie
Deposition by Sherman Alexie - Rattle: Poetry
“We must have gun control,”
say the people who celebrate
the murder by 3D pistol
of a bureaucrat.
www.rattle.com
November 21, 2025 at 4:03 PM
Ah, look
at all the modest despots
reading their poems about
peace.
—Sherman Alexie
at all the modest despots
reading their poems about
peace.
—Sherman Alexie
Where else can gravity carry us
than the wilderness of the familiar?
—Jonathan Pyner
than the wilderness of the familiar?
—Jonathan Pyner
Physics of Home by Jonathan Pyner - Rattle: Poetry
Image: “Off Shore” by Mel Schnall. “Physics of Home” was written by Jonathan Pyner for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2025, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.
www.rattle.com
November 20, 2025 at 2:42 PM
Where else can gravity carry us
than the wilderness of the familiar?
—Jonathan Pyner
than the wilderness of the familiar?
—Jonathan Pyner
We’re still singing the songs of our youth,
Beatles, Morrison, as though nothing changed …
—Lazar Trubman
Beatles, Morrison, as though nothing changed …
—Lazar Trubman
Sad Thing by Lazar Trubman - Rattle: Poetry
for Dr. Brian Salluck We’re still singing the songs of our youth, Beatles, Morrison, as though nothing changed; our years […]
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November 19, 2025 at 3:16 PM
We’re still singing the songs of our youth,
Beatles, Morrison, as though nothing changed …
—Lazar Trubman
Beatles, Morrison, as though nothing changed …
—Lazar Trubman
But this wasn’t a kingdom.
It was a four-bedroom house in Albuquerque …
—John Paul O'Connor
It was a four-bedroom house in Albuquerque …
—John Paul O'Connor
Beans by John Paul O'Connor - Rattle: Poetry
The way my father told the story, it wasn’t Jack who climbed
the Beanstalk. It was my sister and I.
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November 18, 2025 at 4:01 PM
But this wasn’t a kingdom.
It was a four-bedroom house in Albuquerque …
—John Paul O'Connor
It was a four-bedroom house in Albuquerque …
—John Paul O'Connor
Tonight's guest on the Rattlecast is Julia Kolchinsky! A frequent Rattle contributor, Julia's most recent book, Parallax, is a lyrical narrative of parenting a neurodiverse child. Join us live at 8pm ET!
Julia Kolchinsky| Rattlecast 318
YouTube video by Rattle Poetry
youtube.com
November 17, 2025 at 10:46 PM
Tonight's guest on the Rattlecast is Julia Kolchinsky! A frequent Rattle contributor, Julia's most recent book, Parallax, is a lyrical narrative of parenting a neurodiverse child. Join us live at 8pm ET!
The couple across the street did not speak to me.
They thought I drove too fast.
—Lisa Seidenberg
They thought I drove too fast.
—Lisa Seidenberg
Neighbors by Lisa Seidenberg - Rattle: Poetry
The couple across the street did not speak to me.
They thought I drove too fast.
The once-famous writer took walks in his boxer shorts.
www.rattle.com
November 17, 2025 at 5:54 PM
The couple across the street did not speak to me.
They thought I drove too fast.
—Lisa Seidenberg
They thought I drove too fast.
—Lisa Seidenberg
Have you ever realized how easy it is
to not know something?
—Cam McGlynn
to not know something?
—Cam McGlynn
ITS BC THEY HAVE BEEN POKING HOLES IN THE SUN…WAKE UP PEOPLE by Cam McGlynn - Rattle: Poetry
My favorite boss liked to remind me
that we don’t know what we don’t know.
Sure, there are some things that we know
we don’t know, like the best treatment for pancreatic cancer,
how ...
www.rattle.com
November 16, 2025 at 3:04 PM
Have you ever realized how easy it is
to not know something?
—Cam McGlynn
to not know something?
—Cam McGlynn
Of what we offer, life takes what it wants
and goes.
—Robert Rice
and goes.
—Robert Rice
Saudade by Robert Rice - Rattle: Poetry
A thousand years ago a song was sung near a campfire at night by a singer who was alone, exiled […]
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November 14, 2025 at 5:32 PM
Of what we offer, life takes what it wants
and goes.
—Robert Rice
and goes.
—Robert Rice
I say, I’m hungover, but mean,
Burrrp, who poured this grief so strong?
—José Enrique Medina
Burrrp, who poured this grief so strong?
—José Enrique Medina
My Mother’s Buried in the Largest Cemetery in North America by José Enrique Medina - Rattle: Poetry
Where did I leave her grave?
Dazed, I lean against a tree
to steady the sway. I don’t drink,
but I feel drunk with goodbye.
www.rattle.com
November 13, 2025 at 4:56 PM
I say, I’m hungover, but mean,
Burrrp, who poured this grief so strong?
—José Enrique Medina
Burrrp, who poured this grief so strong?
—José Enrique Medina
Years later, I imagined my mother was a mystic,
that her fever dreams that summer were whispering deeper truths,
that the mechanical thump of her heart was a secret numerology.
—Doug Ramspeck
that her fever dreams that summer were whispering deeper truths,
that the mechanical thump of her heart was a secret numerology.
—Doug Ramspeck
Lanterns by Doug Ramspeck - Rattle: Poetry
The summer we placed my mother in the psychiatric hospital,
the July sunlight spray-painted itself as glare along the building’s walls
as we drove away.
www.rattle.com
November 12, 2025 at 5:51 PM
Years later, I imagined my mother was a mystic,
that her fever dreams that summer were whispering deeper truths,
that the mechanical thump of her heart was a secret numerology.
—Doug Ramspeck
that her fever dreams that summer were whispering deeper truths,
that the mechanical thump of her heart was a secret numerology.
—Doug Ramspeck
catching a tired leaf
the veins in my hand
—Sharon Ferrante
the veins in my hand
—Sharon Ferrante
What Happens in Autumn by Sharon Ferrante - Rattle: Poetry
autumn fun
bobbing for apples
he bites my lip
www.rattle.com
November 11, 2025 at 4:01 PM
catching a tired leaf
the veins in my hand
—Sharon Ferrante
the veins in my hand
—Sharon Ferrante