by Dick Barnes My father‘s admonition： when given a choice， choose the path that leads uphill， always， so up we went， but all led down soon afte...
by Ellen Hinsey There， in the air——traceless blue——arena of circuits And saunters， some rise with difficulty 'While others...
by Jeni Olin The new aspirin is a blue-blooded Burberry model With an Oxford classics degree， but my migraine Flares beneath a canopy of melanoma-blur...
by Margaret Atwood I would like to watch you sleeping， which may not happen. I would like to watch you， sleeping. I would like to sleep with you， to e...
by Sarah Fox —for Brian Engel-Fuentes Father glues the hippo back together， as he‘s done before when the others broke. It‘s no small...
by Kathryn Stripling Byer Without hands a woman would stand at her mirror looking back only， not touching， for how could she？ Eyelid. Cheek. Earlobe. ...
by Graham Duncan Every tree is an ancestor tree， not just grandfather redwoods. Every sapling， every sprout， carries that majesty， the dissolution of ...
by Rita Dove I love the hour before takeoff， that stretch of no time， no home but the gray vinyl seats linked like unfolding paper dolls. Soon we shal...
by Sydney Lea When was the last lobotomy， I wonder？ Too late for Carl at least， whom it's all but hopeless to think of as a whipsaw of hateful pas...
by Amy Clampitt Tufts， follicles， grubstake biennial rosettes， a low- life beach-blond scruff of couch grass： notwithstanding the interglinting dregs ...