The poems below were chosen as “Best Poems” and excerpted from the two most recent issues of the Aurorean. Potential submitters can get a good feel for the kinds of poetry we publish by reading these poems, and by being familiar with our journal as a whole.
I look right,
if they hum
all the way
to the sea.
What small pockets
of light they turn on
in the wild night.
How if I pulled
the car over
and rode the current
of my desire
to its end,
I would never
find out how far
—by Gus Peterson, from Spring/Summer 2016
After we enter your three-room apartment
for the first time, touch lottery tickets
stacked by the black rotary phone, pick up
the battered L’Etranger lying face down
on the rumpled bed, our voices hushed
in this place where you lived and so recently
died, I take your hat from its hook by the door,
take it because of its shape and loneliness,
smooth the felt brim, trace its sweat stained
silk band, and put it on. I hear you then,
hear the way you used to whistle as you left
the house. So long, you say and start
whistling again as you head out the door.
—by Jeri Theriault, from Fall/Winter 2015–2016 (20th Anniversary Issue)