by McKenzie | Jun 2, 2012 | Reading
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...
by McKenzie | Oct 13, 2011 | Reading
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....
by McKenzie | Aug 1, 2011 | Reading
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...
by McKenzie | Jul 27, 2011 | Reading
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...
by McKenzie | May 26, 2011 | Reading
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...
by McKenzie | Apr 29, 2011 | Reading
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...
