Slowing Time by Erica Reid My husband is a podcast guy. He says that scientists believe now climate change is starting to affect the length of days:for the first time in a geologic age Earth’s molten core is slackening its spin,our day-long cycles longer by a breath. It’s slowing time, he says — then, earbuds in, returns to stories of our … Read More
Night by Rick Mullin Every angel is terrifying ~Rainer Maria Rilke When I opened for Los Dildos at the Y,I knew I’d get my ass kicked. They had hornsand huge cojones. And a different guyon drums. Their singer wore a crown of thorns(a little heavy on the metaphor)and introduced himself as Caliban.“This isn’t going to … Read More
The Knife, The Throat by Dawn Manning I’ve had a knife at my throat and didn’t die, though when I swallow it tastes like pennies.This scar’s my pearl choker—chic as a fly. My head’s bound on tight—just give it a pry;and put down the green ribbon, dear Jenny.I’ve had a knife at my throat and didn’t … Read More
IWe are delighted to announce the results of the Poetry by the Sea Book Award: At the Lepidopterist’s House by Chelsea Woodard, selected by judge Jane Satterfield. Chelsea will be awarded a prize of $500 and is invited to read from At the Lepidopterist’s House in May at Poetry by the Sea 2024. As we … Read More
Roughly True by Barbara Lydecker Crane Suzanne Valadon, 1865-1938, Paris What, you haven’t heard of me, despitemy art and stormy life? There’s much to tellof pride and bitterness, of bliss and hell—but not regret. I’ll fill my pen and write. I was born a bastard. Maman worked,a laundress, while I’d roam Montmartre, spying through café and whorehouse … Read More
Calling Hours at the Funeral Home by Jean L. Kreiling He wants to be here—it’s for his Aunt Lou,who baked him cookies, sent him cards and money,applauded his good news from first grade throughthe senior partnership, and called him honeyto her last day. But this grim atmospherecould not be further from Aunt Lou: his nosedetects old carpet, … Read More
DRIVING NORTH FROM FLORIDA IN MARCH by Brian Brodeur I think of you out thereon the sandy edge of things—Anthony Hecht, “Message from the City” On viny medians near Fayetteville,spring in reverse begins un-greening trees.Ryegrass recalls its pollen. Creeks re-freeze.A rumor of itself, the nascent yearwithholds its buds and songbirds disappear.Unsalted roads carved into each … Read More
After The Planets by Matthew Moniz with thanks to Gustav Holst Mars Far after all the planets have expired,we’ll look upon our headstone rocks adriftand back at errant dreams which they inspired—to give ourselves a universal gift. That’s if we leave—our ochre neighbor stainsimaginations marching toward those timesof triumph and prestige as our cremainsrepeat … Read More
The Virgin Learning to Read by Julia Griffin The mother smiles, one finger poised to guideHer daughter’s eyes along a page of wood. The child’s small hands hold up the book: a good Pupil. We cannot see the text inside. How kindly those old sculptors understood: – Behold a girl, her parents’ care and pride,Endowed with a humanity deniedTo … Read More
Gronnets by Julia Griffin My mother’s mother’s father looked like Einstein:So Grandma said, and photos bear it out.Sadly, the likeness stopped there, though no doubtHe had his strengths: finding his prospects fenced inBy dangerous Europe, fearing to be pounced on,He sailed for Liberty, alone, a scoutFor wife and son. They joined him, in aboutFive years: … Read More
