My oldest son worked hard to rake the leavesInto a corner of our yard. Proud to proveWhat all his sweat and effort had achieved,He took my hand, suggesting where he’d moveThe rest tomorrow, to be burned. I gaveFive dollars for the work, advising oneTo spend, one to tithe, the other three, to . . . . Continue Reading »
On this, the darkest day of the year, may we be confident that the light will soon begin to increase. Continue Reading »
I was grown before I knew the moonwaxed and waned that way,waxed in a D and waned in a C.Since no one ever showed me,I showed my children, probablyfrom the first time we looked at the night sky. Though you might have known this scientifically,sometimes you have to go to the other side of the . . . . Continue Reading »
A raindrop mirrorsThe whole typhoonStretched like a spoonUpon her clear Curvaceous skin,Synoptic nudeFully tattooedFor one instant With her whole kind’sCreation mythSo that her fall Expresses allThe other mindsShe’s fallen with. —Amit . . . . Continue Reading »
i This tinnitus—its tintinnabulationsso whiningly thin. ii This tinnitus—tiny and tinny and yetso terribly loud. iii This tinnitus—its flatline shrilling is . . . . Continue Reading »
“I wandered lonely as a cloud.” So begins a famous poem of William Wordsworth’s, one that was often taught to schoolchildren back when memorizing poetry was part of education. The poet comes upon “a crowd, / A host, of golden daffodils.” The flowers flutter and dance before him, their . . . . Continue Reading »
Fear not, despite the evening’s crippled shinsdropping to dust again from your rooftop view.The anvil coming down upon the hammeryou witnessed in your dream will be for good. You are warned like any other—by the starsand distant fires, by lamp and even bythe inevitable blatant morning . . . . Continue Reading »
“Do the kitchen? I’ll give you Swedish Fish!”I hear negotiations reach a peak,numbers flying, the clatter of each dish—the kids are home, visiting for the week. That gummy currency bought lots of things—a chore, “shotgun,” a TV show, a wish—less like cash and more like . . . . Continue Reading »
What are they saying, the birds coasting at sunset, getting ready for bed,dive-bombing into darkened trees where you heard them fold their wings, or is that in your head? Coasting at sunset, almost ready for bed,their spread wings fan out, shadowing earth,preening their wings—also in . . . . Continue Reading »
Our editors share their thoughts on what they've been reading recently. Continue Reading »
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