Corinne Wohlford Mason After the Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon The way a child explains the rules of a thing to me. Handwriting from another century. The smell of eucalyptus. What a...
Shay Swindlehurst 2022 Greg Grummer Poetry Contest Honorable Mention God had made for Adam a Jungle. The Gardens of Eden rioted, strived against Adam’s toil. Each day he cut the...
Michelle Matthees Like a barn door wide open: there was your O. Everything else was burned away, no hair, giant puckers inward like a flattened rubber flower. In front of the train station I passed...
Jeffrey Morgan There’s a barn owl that nests somewhere on our street. Reports differ. I’ve named her Ghost Face Junior and will correct people. Imagine her eyes dark marbles in the...
Hunt Hawkins The elevator opens on the 19th floorto a room full of hay, bleating sheep and goats,a loose rooster looking for grain.Through the windows we see the bright Palisadesand in the haze the...
Kira K Homsher Two shirtless teenage boysPlay ball across the street.They dart in and out of my little square of vision,Casting long evening shadows downThe sidewalk. Oh, one of them has dropped The...
Aimee Wright Clow Three toes fall over the line, severed at just the right place so thefoot does not bleed. The foot walks away and the toes becomeseeds, slowly wriggling into the mud-line where they...
Zebulon Huset He didn’t tell me, and I shouldn’t have been snooping—but—how much privacy should a five year-old have? Finding his post-it diary was adorable until I noticedthe wavy pages...
Lisa Huffaker Lisa Huffaker creates poetry, collage, and assemblage. She is a frequent visiting artist at the Nasher Sculpture Center, a recent C3 Visiting Artist at the Dallas Museum of Art, and...