by Ayden Massey
when the morning glories have unbowed their soft skulls,
may you rejoice in the child of things.
may you return to the warm radius amongst the high boughs Continue reading
by Ayden Massey
when the morning glories have unbowed their soft skulls,
may you rejoice in the child of things.
may you return to the warm radius amongst the high boughs Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Sean Eaton
My short-fused mother became close with a coworker
and took us to visit her ranch in Charlotte. My sisters
and I strapped into our minivan, trundling along past
farm after farm. On arrival, she told us to make friends
with the woman’s daughters, so we did. (My kindly heart
was always hungry for love.) My wisecracking young Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Deborah Schwartz
I hear my fizzy head ask the outside world for quiet. Forget it.
Those voices inside me are broadcasting my child labor
of anger, I ask them all to please be lighter. They’re fighters.
This page, for instance, made clearer by the margin,
I try to declutter like zippers that I sew onto the fly of my jeans
for a salary that no one can live on or marry. My mother. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Patrick Meeds
I’ve got a thing for rivers that wind
but that’s just a lazy way to say
I love you. Just don’t believe
for one instant that it’s not true. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Nancy Beadie
If Billy Collins were a woman, or
if I were Billy Collins, we might write
about the ironing I am doing now–
how a good iron has a life of its own
as it noses up the folds of a seam,
fingers a cuff or the hem of a skirt, Continue reading