Reading Poems—The Art of Dabbling

  Sometimes—particularly when life feels a little too busy, or the days need a little more structure (like the summer!)—I find myself immersed in the art of what I’ve come to call “dabbling.” This might mean simply browsing around on Google, or the...

Reading Joan Aleshire

  TWELVE FAIRY GODMOTHERS   all came with gifts to the birth: one with laughter, one with strength, one with luck, one with love, one with grace, one with hope, one with imagination, one with insight, one with health, one with keen senses, one with will, and...

Reading Frank Stanford

  THE BASS   He jumps up high against the night, rattling his gills and the hooks in his back. The Indian says he is like a goose passing in front of the moon.   THE NOCTURNAL SHIPS OF THE PAST   There was always a great darkness moving out like a...

Reading Matthew Dickman

 GRIEF   When grief comes to you as a purple gorilla you must count yourself lucky. You must offer her what’s left of your dinner, the book you were trying to finish you must put aside and make her a place to sit at the foot of your bed, her eyes moving from...

Reading Mary Ruefle

  WASPS’ NEST   The empty, almost weightless, onionated brain. Planet-on-a-branch. The first lantern to glow in space when Wang Bo thought, I’ll look a little closer I’ll lift this flame inside. His footsteps. His panting. His words of announcement: how...

A Day Reading Robert Creeley

  IN A BOAT SHED   I waited too long. I waited for you forever and ever: the changing unchanging restlessness of the signs they didn’t put up or down; the boxes of oranges, rat poisons, barns, a sled with no runners, snow, refreshments, pineapples; the odor...