Poetry Collections, Reviews

We Could Do Better, You and I: Ecology, Design and Poetry: Reading Betsy Andrews’ The Bottom

  Click here to view my interview with Betsy Andrews. When I first began reading Betsy Andrews’ book-length poem, The Bottom, I was reminded of an incident that occurred nearly two years ago now. In October of 2012, an article appeared on Slate.com regarding a large, startlingly-blue eye that had washed up on a Florida… Read More We Could Do Better, You and I: Ecology, Design and Poetry: Reading Betsy Andrews’ The Bottom

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Blog, My Poems

False Memory

  We’re too damaged to go back now, left a little too far open, lost moons, the open box-cutters with a blade that shines like glass against your hair, your eyes, the feeling of blade to skin. Watching you, this is how a river feels— too cool, too fast, a stampede of horses. We can… Read More False Memory

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Poetry Collections, Reviews

“The Snapping Open of a Valve / A Bird’s Egg”: Reading Kerrin McCadden’s Landscape with Plywood Silhouettes

  No matter how long I’ve been reading and writing professionally, it still amazes me how much a little time away can contribute to my appreciation of a larger work. During my first year as the Layout and Design Editor at New Issues Poetry and Prose, I had the extreme benefit of working with Kerrin… Read More “The Snapping Open of a Valve / A Bird’s Egg”: Reading Kerrin McCadden’s Landscape with Plywood Silhouettes

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Blog, My Poems

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.    

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Blog, My Poems

The Separation

  There was a moment when I thought of you, and I longed for water. Two black pitchers laid on the ground in the shadow of what must have been an old well. Their two mouths were crusted with the last snowfall’s ice. Their mouths like two ovals learning how to kiss a forgotten earth.… Read More The Separation

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Blog, My Poems

No Skin Included.

Break open the branch. Inside– there is lime and tree foam. Like marrow. The white liquid that illuminates the skin, full of leaves and freshly-plucked strawberries. Like dawn, opening: he captures this about her in a painting, surrounds her with blood oranges, places roses around her face. The girl becomes something like a funeral, the… Read More No Skin Included.

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