by Jackie K. White
Facing it, you debate being told how light
the unbreathing body is,
when her blood, how heavy, her bone, are
gone now to stone.
On one side: her name, dates, a hopeful
verse. On the blank side: Continue reading
by Jackie K. White
Facing it, you debate being told how light
the unbreathing body is,
when her blood, how heavy, her bone, are
gone now to stone.
On one side: her name, dates, a hopeful
verse. On the blank side: Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Claire Scott
I ask him if he heard the banshees last night
baying at the moon, a sure sign of impending disaster
my husband is slicing radishes with a spoon
he looks up but says nothing Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Michael Manerowski
Filed under Poetry
by Richard Schiffman
Your silence resonates in my belly
like ice crackling on a winter lake,
a trigger’s click, the report of a rifle
in the woods, a fog horn moaning
in the pea soup distance.
Filed under Poetry
by Anne McCrary Sullivan
Hōkūle’a, teach me how to be on the dark sea
without a chart, clouds obscuring stars.
Teach me how to hold back panic, read the waves.
Teach me to trust the ancestors, who knew more
than I yet know how to know. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry