Rebecca Hazelton, Poetry Editor

No foul language, please. No foul language, please, unless there's a really good reason. No foul language, please, unless there's a really good reason and no other word will do. No foul language, please, unless there's a really good reason, no other word will do, and you're particularly upset. No foul language, please, unless there's a really good reason, no other word will do, you're upset, please, no foul language.  No, foul language, please, there's a really good reason, no other word will do, and you've upset the foul language. Please upset the language, don't foul the reason.

Stephen Mills

God, just don’t bore me.

I wanted to stop with just that, but it feels like I’m cheating you if I do and cheating myself the pleasure of writing the answer to the ridiculous yet pestering question: what do I look for in poetry? The answer seems simple enough: I want a poem that can take me to bed soft and slow or hard and rough with a gun to my head. I want a poem that can break down every single thing I expect and rip a window in the world for me to crawl through on my bare hands and knees. I want a poem that kills the critic and silences the masses or causes a war where the only weapons are words. I want a poem that cuts off my toes and feeds them to my mother, after my father has taken ill from a strangely placed snakebite.

Basically I want to be entertained, so make it good.

Brianna Noll

I want a poem to kick me in the teeth. Hard. And with gusto. I want to be able to say, after I spit out the blood, "Damn, that was worth it."