Publications & Achievements
Concealer
In the early part of the day, I eat flowers in the attempt to be more beautiful. All the curtains remain closed, the lights off, mirrors concealed. I imagine I am thin like a swan, the smooth, sharp feathers, the eyes that strike through skin. With enough time,...
Puzzle Skin
In the middle of summer, he removed his shirt and stood next to the open hood, engine steaming, when I first observed the Frankenstein’s monster tattoo covering his right bicep, broken down into puzzle pieces, part of the lip and neck and forehead missing. I...
Screenwriter
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Childbirth
Here is how it ends---the whale departs from its shell and there is a curve of body and blood, a trail of the mother’s womb. Counterpoise: the redistribution of weight and water---for a moment, you can see the sea rise---and then, the equilibrium. Cell-like,...
Dinosaur Bone
You brought it home, yellow with age and old ligament, and propped it up in the entryway of our home, next to the umbrellas. This led to the making of soup and a long discussion about death. I asked, Can we just pretend for a moment that all we have to do to...
Babysitting–And Then, The Crisis
We are sitting in a worn-out cafe, with fruit that is a little too far gone, and she decides to explain it to me like this: the neighbors' boy was there while the parents were away, the summer heat beating down, all the birds like feathered shade along the...
Across the Ravaged Lake
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Defining Winter
It is only cat-like as it enters the cemetery, something skeletal and de-veined as it exits. We spent time removing corn husks and drove down dirt roads. Our first winter together, it was two days into the season before you told me you loved me. Four winters...
Poem of the Day & Reading Posts
Reading Lynn Emanuel
inside gertrude stein Right now as I am talking to you and as you are being talked to, without letup, it is becoming clear that gertrude stein has hijacked me and that this feeling that you are having now as you read this, that this is what it feels like...
Joseph Conrad’s “Advice on Writing a Novel”
I. “I have not read this author’s books, and if I have read them I have forgotten what they were about.” These words are reported as having been uttered in our midst not a hundred years ago, publicly, from the seat of justice, by a civic magistrate. The words of our...
Poem by Frank Stanford
I was reading the poetry collection, You, by Frank Stanford today and really liked this poem. I hope you enjoy it. WEARINESS OF MEN My grandmother said when she was young The grass was so wild and high You couldn't see a man on horseback. In the fields she made out...
I adore this poem by Carrie Olivia Adams right now.
CARRIE OLIVIA ADAMS A Mystery Story She would begin by predicting the weather. The first clue is snowflakes. She gathers teeth marks. Flesh torn. Hot. Then cold to the touch. No, the detective thinks. Fabric fibers over ice crystals. Fingernails. This one delivered....
Reading/”Favoriting” Zoland Poetry #5
Zoland Poetry 5: An Annual of Poems, Translations & Interviews *** STEPHANIE STRICKLAND burning briar scanning tunnel there is a zombie at the wheel who finds acceptable all risk (his flesh looks like mine) a crinkle monkey in the swamp mind tricky and brisk (his...
Reading New Ohio Review (nor) 8
DEAN YOUNG Bell Tower Now that my heart is about ready, who are all those gracile creatures moving smooth as air around me while I rest on my assistant, the stair railing? I’m thankful not to know a one of them and interrupt their neon-darting need for somewhere else...
Just finished reading William Aberg and Maureen Alsop
WILLIAM ABERG The Blade (for William Stafford) As a boy, I made a blade of my hand and held it flush with the window of our speeding car. Telephone poles, great windy chestnuts and oaks, tall buildings, and green, bearing slopes-- I leveled them all exactly with my...
Reading Diane Seuss
Don’t say Paris No one says Paris anymore. There’s no such thing as Paris, no Café de la Paix, no Titian’s Entombment in t he Louvre or Hotel La Sanguine with amaranth petals on the sheets. Don’t say Paris. When you utter the word I take off my long red gloves. I...
Book Reviews & Author Interviews
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Past Literary Events
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