Poetry

Forever August We hate to see August drain awayLike the grains of goldFleeing from a dying miner’s handFrom an old movie.We want to remember theLush, emerald-green of the vegetationWhich surrounds us.Like a sweet-smelling cocoon.My nose...

Prodigal Daughter The girl asked nothing from me,just left, hitching I suppose,my car still in the garage,my wallet untouched.She looks just like her mother,relatives say when they learn. When I search her room, I find herchildhood...

Letters to the Editor Should be dead on arrival.Should not reach the light of day.Should not be thought upIn the minds of the peopleWho intend to write them. We can put a stop that. We can...

tenth millennium i’m sure i was the same                                  as the stone; round and ungolfed; fractured from something much larger                   that stumbled down the mountain. there is nothing that                              laughs any                                          harder than a murder of crows. i can sit, without a fossil etched           any- where;...

Summer, Speedway, Indiana 1975 I guess because his dad was a dentist,Jeff Beverly had a 500 ml syringe—minus the needle. Looking back, I understandwhy all the grown-upssaid I was disturbed for many reasons, but mainly because of that...

Parting Is Sweet Sorrow she leftanddidn’t leavemuch of herself—a blond hairdropped without care,frayed golden threadon a worn and stained carpet,a cup of coffee,half-filled, unstirred,and a smell lingeringon the morning sheetslike a winter fog lying lightlyover...

Topography of the Historical Map Others napped as the Rocky Mountain Sunday snowdrifted thick while we slow touched, increasinglynaked in the living room, gluing ourselves tight,until together in the spring storm our eyesgrew large living...

In the bewitched aviary. The sonnet according to Mr. Shakespeare Helots muse about moony Golden Fleece of the condor. Drudges think of the dreamy eternal dew of the hen. Philosophers ponder on winged fantasy of the crow. Kings ruminate...

The Paper Trail I am not competing for a place in history.My name was listed in the newspaperafter being born to let everyone know I had arrived,then report cards came along,rating me from a F...

The Day the Machines Came We said, finally, here is some helpand for cheap. Somewhere someonehad dug the graves of a bygone age and turned up the muck to racketthe tractor to life. We thirsted,had no...