Literary Arts

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Two Poems by Allen Ebert

Happy Birthday, Old Man! Every birthday I weigh less. I’m down to the last hole on my belt. There’s more hair in the clothes dryer, than...

Three Poems by Michael Gushue

Turning ElegyLeaving is all we have.It’s your not being here speaking.Leaving the door ajar, the tableswept—turning into something less than comfort. What did you...

Two Poems by Jim Smith

Eating the Sun At the Alburgh VT eclipse festival, children sit at a picnic table drawing the sun with black crayons. A dragonfly brushes my...

Two Poems by Mark Thalman

At the State Maximum Security PrisonThere are no elevators. They can’t be secured.To get to classrooms on the third floor,everyone takes the stairs.Before...

Two Poems by Le Hinton

The Rainy Season We report the discovery of the Labord’s chameleon, with a posthatching life span of just 4–5 months.— PNAS abstract: “Unique life history...

Two Poems by D. R. James

I Don’t Know the Biochemistryof a Hummingbird I can only wonderat this blurredwhir of evidence, cloudedin the blue fanof a thousandwings. I wantto feeltheir million...

Two Poems by Nathan Scheer

“Lost” -For NACIs it possible to grievefor someone who still breathes?To mourn someone who still walksand works and talks...

Three Poems by Revonne Johnson

When the Hat Went Up Remembering the Montgomery, Alabama, Riverfront brawl.When the...

Two Poems by Regina YC Garcia

Afro Carolina Black: There is More Than One Way In case you haven’t noticed… I am BlackCarolina BlackAfro Carolina BlackAfro North Kakalak BlackEastern Afro Carolina BlackBorn...

Two Poems by Alan Abrams

MY SPANISH IS NO GOOD The shifting breezes barely stirred the sodden flags;the tide turned, to inch back toward the sea,spilling yonder poplars upside down.Redwing...

Must-read

Two Poems by Allen Ebert

Happy Birthday, Old Man! Every birthday I weigh less. I’m down to the last hole on my belt. There’s more hair in the clothes dryer, than...

Three Poems by Michael Gushue

Turning ElegyLeaving is all we have.It’s your not being here speaking.Leaving the door ajar, the tableswept—turning into something less than comfort. What did you...

Two Poems by Jim Smith

Eating the Sun At the Alburgh VT eclipse festival, children sit at a picnic table drawing the sun with black crayons. A dragonfly brushes my...
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