Publications & Achievements

Rhododendron

  I am unsure as to where this flower ends or where it began. The small connecting limbs, hidden behind the round series of heads, the seeding centers, their odd tears around the edges like teeth. There is something oddly promising about these flowers---you see,...

Highway / Windmill

                                 Asphalt and salt, the tires burning in the heat. The crops are dying. Brittle limbs, the yellow tinge, still reaching upwards. And then the...

The River Turns White

  with skyline and sun. The dark shapes on the water are like turtle shells, inverted and empty, then sinking as the sun moves higher. Fish rising and falling with sea and storm.    

Midday

  I am passing through my neighbor’s backyard, and I stop, because her patio door is open. The sun is there, pouring over a table and chairs, all those rhododendrons and pollen. In all that light, I can see up the stairs and into her living room, where the woman...

Progress Report

  She will live inside me for three more months. Of this I am certain: we are running on time. We are progressing at the recommended rate. But she is still so small, not even two pounds, and she lies completely connected. There are days when I want to fill her...

Waiting for a Femoral Head Ostectomy: A Painting

  After two days hiding under the bed, my cat emerges, carrying his back leg as if useless, the toes on the supporting paw spread wide for balance. He continues like this, eyes wide and dilated, a growl that returns most evenings as the pain sets back in. It...

World Cup 2014

                                     thinking of Ashley Capps' Mistaking the Sea for...

China Cabinet

  Listen---we are not discussing private matters. We are discussing how the rain strikes a teacup, a platter, a spoon. Left outside, they are vulnerable, the bare skin, the touch of water to metal or china--- the tick tick tick---the clicking of a jaw. It...

Poem of the Day & Reading Posts

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...

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,...

Reading Allan Peterson

  CONTINENTAL   We were sinking The windows were filling with cities as if poured into glasses No one was thinking of drowning No one thinking air ship but there we were submerging A captain turned off the cabin lights We folded our...

Remembering Herbert Scott

  SLEEPING WOMAN                     ---after the painting by Richard Diebenkorn   I’m walking east down Lovell in Kalamazoo in the middle of the afternoon, and it’s hot, July something, and there’s a man...

Counting Down to the New Year: Five of My Favorite Books of 2014

  Happy New Year, all! I hope you had a wonderful celebration of the upcoming new year and were able to spend some time recounting the good memories of 2014. Along with going to school and becoming a mom, this was definitely a year for reading and reviewing...

Reading David Dodd Lee

  THE WHITE SEA   Spin the big wheel of weather. So it’s seven degrees. I could have sworn it was balmy and getting ready         to storm eight minutes ago. One definition of a slob is someone who runs out to the street through a foot of...

Reading Meg Day

  THERE'S SNOW IN THE WEST   & there’s snow in the east & there’s snow in our beds icing the cabbage. Since you left me alone, the wasp nest swallowing the bulb in the porch light has gone leaden & each night the asphalt is honeycombed in its half- lidded...

Reading Betsy Andrews

  to sound like itself is what water wants, to look like itself, to feel wet walloped by cinderblock, spars and bottles, the wanting-locked water lay down the wanting-locked water stank without lustre, it stank without lustre and we cut it with knives, we cut it...

Book Reviews & Author Interviews

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Past Literary Events

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