by McKenzie | Nov 8, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
The gentle faces fall and collect, fall like deer into the field— over and over like soft moons. * You remember her skin and how it rang with moonlight. And though the moon may never sing, the image made sense— the way that shine seemed to quantify...
by McKenzie | Nov 7, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
The gentle faces fall and collect, fall like deer into the field— over and over like soft moons.
by McKenzie | Oct 25, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
The raccoon would not be moved easily, then, its skin too far gone, all fish and sinew, pinned behind the farthest bunker on the field. Children turned around the animal like meat grinders, their faces red with snow, their hearts beating, rotating with the orbit,...
by McKenzie | Oct 17, 2011 | Achievements, Publications, and Writing Challenges, Blog
This past week—Tuesday, October 11—42 Miles Press was mentioned in IU South Bend’s student newspaper, The Preface. In the article written by Maria Hubbard, 42 Miles Press, its publications, the office and our expanding library of resources are discussed to give...
by McKenzie | Oct 16, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
If this were a poem, you would be awake by now– like a ghost a migration of birds. Your body–ejected to the ceiling–would become a pillar for Christ to place his feet. It happened on the morning when in your car, you could not sleep. Your mind,...
by McKenzie | Sep 28, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
You trade the sun for sudden moons – the reflections on your shovel transform into soil and otter. In the moment you kneel, speculations rise like glass from your skin. The shine of diamond – crows plant themselves in the place of violets blacken the earth. (That soft...
