Poetry

Three poems

A Couch She Loved Now, stacked between packed boxes lining a spare bedroom a couch she loved in a house I was tired of haunting I left because the body recognizes on its own despite ...

Three poems

"Midwatch," "Nirvana," and "Pillars of Creation"

Midwatch Steaming as before, independently Which is to say alone On a black sea with white accents I am responsible for the souls Asleep while I keep watch Scanning the horizon for running lights Scanning ...

Two poems by Helen Hunt Jackson

"A Calendar of Sonnets: April" and "How Was It"

A Calendar of Sonnets: April No days such honored days as these! While yet Fair Aphrodite reigned, men seeking wide For some fair thing which should forever bide On earth, her beauteous memory to set ...

Three poems

"A Page from the Apocrypha," "She Waits," and "Alone"

A Page from the Apocrypha So God throws Adam and Eve out of paradise but they don’t slink away wailing and ashamed like the characters in Italian frescoes. Instead, Adam turns and says, “Ah, You ...

Three Sonnets

"Bison Burgers and Fry Bread," "From Chilhowee Mountain," and "Reservation"

Bison Burgers and Fry Bread Among my people, here again I am, Preparing to be welcomed to the feast. The “immigrant,” you’re undisturbed, at least, Leaned back, as though you do not give a damn ...

Two poems for spring

"Scrubbing the Sheep Tank" and "Scything Lessons: A Villanelle, Roughly"

Scrubbing the Sheep Tank Even in midwinter, algae thrives in the tank So I find myself on this 18-degree day Bending to it, circling the surface, January wind scouring my face. I scrub the scum, ...

"The Lorica" by Saint Patrick

The country could be called "The Isle of Poets"

I arise today Through the strength of the love of cherubim, In the obedience of angels, In the service of archangels, In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward, In the prayers of patriarchs, ...

Where the Santa Ana Freeway inherits the Long Beach

Three poems by Patty Seyburn

Ode to My Grecian Urns Fake, faux, ersatz and what’s more, there are two of them. Keats said the sonnet wouldn’t do. Wrong tone. No Pindarics — not the right form for philosophy. The poem ...

Like a beast’s pelt: oaks hunched like sleeping bear

With half-hearted barking, geese announce their return

March’s Lovely Asymptotes The property line melts into forest, its late winter browns Like a beast’s pelt; oaks hunched like sleeping bear; Beech and birch extend into ugly candid possum hair, And elms and maples ...

When you’re tired, everything’s worse

Three poems by Kim Dower

What It Means When You Dream You Bought a Red Cadillac it means your face is on fire it means your hands grab anything that moves it means you want to be kissing her scarlet ...

It was a bus stop, and past midnight

Four poems by Anthony Seidman

Border Town Graduates Although we’re closer to feeling the grass pulled over our lips forever, we still bare our dirty teeth and laugh. We managed to look twice our age, and now our wrinkles won’t ...

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