Poem of the Day: Edgar Allan Poe

  THE RAVEN   Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—             While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visitor,”…

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Poem of the Day: Iliana Rocha

  LA ESTRELLA   When Polaris falls, my grandmother will mourn in the center of the earth, her grief a giant telescope expanding through mantle, lithosphere, crust— a grito. In her hand, a mirror of polished obsidian— lava’s reaction to water. In her hand, reflections: a plumed serpent, a jaw, a rosary, a spirit of…

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Poem of the Day: Louise Mathias

  PRONE, NOVEMBER   Just your slow, pink movements near the doorway. If there were fields, they’d long ago rolled back in agate bliss. Until you were indelible, a dahlia. Bale of hay, almost made for a woman bent over. Her pale sweet hedging (which, in certain landscapes, is an early form of love. )…

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Poem of the Day: Clayton T. Michaels

  PRECIOUS   Bring me sackcloth and oleander. Break out the shotguns.            We’re going to town. Changes in the weather tracked on smoke-streaked yellowed windows             via crosshatches thumbnail-                            scratched into their…

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Poem of the Day: Lisa Nanette Allender

  L.V. WOMEN   The Women wear their hair like a blonde ballet trained to perform each golden strand sun-bleached and chemical-precision, in perfect position. The women wear their skin unnaturally tight dry and porous like the concrete surrounds, pneumatic-pillow breasts under their gowns. The women wear their men on their arms never hand-in-hand, old…

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Poem of the Day: Michalle Gould

  WHEN I WAS NAKED   I was the sturdy bowl of plums half-buried in snow outside the artist’s studio. He paints the shades of purple reflected in condensed water on my skin. I was the snowy hill topped by a nun’s black habit, a fall of dark hair descending to wintry shoulders, an infinite…

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Two Truths & A Lie

  My future & my past are essentially the same: whether it is me or her riding in the back seat, I still have to ask permission of my mother or daughter if I can go anywhere. I traded in my happiness like a receipt for defective batteries, & the world keeps turning without me….

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Reading Tracey Knapp

  TO THE NEW MOON   Come night. Come sirens and midnight babies born in the backseats of taxicabs. Come moon. You crazy weeping alcoholic, quit drinking yourself into nothingness. Someone’s trumpet has gone missing tonight. Someone is looking for you, holding your hairbrush to the nose of a bloodhound. Leave your shadow on the…

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Tracey Knapp Reading at IU South Bend Tomorrow!

  Hi everyone! Just in case you haven’t heard, poet Tracey Knapp will be reading at IU South Bend tomorrow night at 7:30pm on the Bridge on the third floor of Weikamp Hall. She will be reading from her first full-length collection, Mouth, published by 42 Miles Press, and there will be books for sale…

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