Housesitting by Deirdre Lockwood You had to turn down Swampy Dog Road.An old New England farmhouse, set back from the road. Too many books,Moroccan rugs, furniture inherited or acquired. A poster of Amelia Earhart:Women Fly. That summer we took care of it while your...
When Will She Ever by Melissa Studdard O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall —Gerard Manley Hopkins Life arranged through appointments,nightfall, small tasks. Not oceanmind. Not blazonbrute or valor. Brooding onlythe pen capfrom which the writing...
Aphorism 42: If You Were As Innocent As You Pretend To Be We’d Never Get Anywhere by John Blair EKPHRASIS: “NYMPHS FINDING THE HEAD OF ORPHEUS,” JOHN WILLIAM WATERHOUSE, 1901 You watch the moon roll one-eyed out of its cave to search for thieves &...
Lucifer Harps on Beauty by Brad Crenshaw As we know, the world is fucking magical.Let’s say one night cominghome late the way it’s always beenafter a gig playing bass, standupbass, which itself is a talent worthhaving even before the literarycritic in his beers tipped...
If I Drink the Violets, by Ronda Piszk Broatch If I Drink the Violets, you must hold the glass, in case I become a fever of absence. In my old version of creation, our cosmos was birthed by another cosmos. Which makes me fortunate, otherwise Johnny...
