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Page 193 from Issue 23-24

violent annunciation'. My fancy began to play with Leda and the Swan for metaphor, and I began ... political interests, politically active whenever oppor­ tunity presented itself. His best poetry-that of his ... love the poetry, and perhaps most of all the poems with a political bearing? An important part of the ...
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Lake Woe-Is-Me

Matt Wood
to that fancy New York City and my words were so brilliant I got a book deal and I gloated about it ... Matt Wood Thursday, May 27, 2010 Blog Garrison Keillor's get-off-my-lawn lament for the ... "death" of the publishing industry (or at least the fancy New York elite version he reveres) elicited ...
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Page 81 from Issue 128

believed in me and my poetry. She was the one who got me addicted to coffee (iced coffee with milk) from ... Page 81 from Issue 128 rather than make hundreds of thousands of dollars. My stand-up comic friend ... understand enough about Jewish culture, so my punch lines were always a little bit off. I was typecast in ...
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Page 48 from Issue 117

Fall 2003
fourth wind. Standing in the room, in my coat, having made the radical decision to not say goodbye, not ... looking for my hostess, whoever she is, I notice, maybe for the first time, that nobody says goodbye to ... Page 48 from Issue 117 that hurts my chest when I stare at the blank faces that stare back at me ...
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Page 117 from Issue 115

Spring 2003
a refrigerator. For me, it was all Goodbye tax forms! Goodbye I wonder if that check bounced! My brain was so full ... someday!" I knew a poem that yelled, "Refrigerator!" and my brain suddenly had room for ... of refrigerator­ my mind full of that poem's world- my whole head suddenly hard on the ...
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Page from Issue vol3-no1

Experimenting with Bird Migration Andr�w John Lofquist: The Rifle Lawrence Irving Levy: The Fancy Lady Howard ... Nemerov e The Fall Again Robert D. Harvey: A Prophet Armed: An Introduction to the Poetry 0/ Howard ...
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Page 106 from Issue 123

I cuddled her in my arms all I could do was puzzle it out. Did she recog­ nize herself in my Tarpeia, for ... says: love is never ugly? Maybe she liked my courage to sing of new things and to be myself above all? ... she had dried herself off, she got out of my embrace and, blowing her nose off and on, she looked me ...
Poetry

Lachryphagus

Samyak Shertok
everything. You took him a gift, he cried: My people remembered me. You didn’t, he cried: My people forgot me. ... You called him by name, he cried: You remind me of my dead mother. He cried plump gooseberries. Once ... photographs, “The breath between laughing and lace” is a dry riverbed. “Tears after goodbye” are x and x. ...
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Page 107 from Issue 71

for a goodbye kiss. To kiss my mother goodbye is an orthopedic experience. Touching my lips to her ... about to get from my mother a word that will move this goodbye far beyond the Mississippi River. That ... not so much with the spitting out by my son of my mother's money, as it would in the roseate ...
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Page 201 from Issue 25

my fancy or my reason judged fitting. But after all, writing is nothing more than a guided dream. ... Page 201 from Issue 25 never fails to amaze me that the classics hold a romantic theory of poetry ... ob¬ viously derives from Lemuel Gulliver's last voyage, my stories are —to use the term in ...

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