Postcards by Margaret Atwood
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]I’m thinking about you. What else can I say? The palm trees on the reverse are a delusion; so is the pink sand. What we…
Poems
In a Garden -by Elizabeth Jennings
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]When the gardener has gone this garden Looks wistful and seems waiting an event. It is so spruce, a metaphor of Eden And even more…
Wild Dreams Of A New Beginning by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]There’s a breathless hush on the freeway tonight Beyond the ledges of concrete restaurants fall into dreams with candlelight couples Lost Alexandria still burns in…
The Ancient World -by Mark Doty
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Today the Masons are auctioning their discarded pomp: a trunk of turbans, gemmed and ostrich-plumed, and operetta costumes labeled inside the collar “Potentate” and “Vizier.”…
Smell! -by William Carlos Williams
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Oh strong-ridged and deeply hollowed nose of mine! what will you not be smelling? What tactless asses we are, you and I, boney nose, always…
Psalm by Paisley Rekdal
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Too soon, perhaps, for fruit. And the broad branches, ice-sheathed early, may bear none. But still the woman waits, with her ladder and sack, for…
Perhaps the World Ends Here -by Joy Harjo
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live. The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set…
Oysters by Seamus Heaney
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Our shells clacked on the plates. My tongue was a filling estuary, My palate hung with starlight: As I tasted the salty Pleiades Orion dipped…
This Is Just To Say -by William Carlos Williams
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet…
Onions -by William Matthews
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] How easily happiness begins by dicing onions. A lump of sweet butter slithers and swirls across the floor of the sauté pan, especially if…
After You Have Vanished -by Kevin Prufer
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]The little red jewel in the bottom of your wineglass is so lovely I cannot rinse it out, so I go into the cool and…
Draft of a Landscape -by Juliet Patterson
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]after Paul Celan The hare’s dust pelt against the juniper’s sky now in the eye uncovered a question clear in the wing of the day…