Jen Stewart Fueston When this began, you dreamedI owned a clay bowl & I told you how at night,the glow of the kitchen apples meant something to me like desire,their scarlet skins spent in a...
David Rock Winner of the Greg Grummer 2021 Poetry Contest The friction of experience— a little something heavyto carry around in a pillow case to remind us that our motherembroidered her blossomsat...
Benjamin Niespodziany Runner up for the 2021 Greg Grummer Poetry Contest The twins live in an old house with a stick that speaks three tongues. Atop the stick there sits a shifting egg. It rots and...
W. Todd Kaneko My grandmother once fed meclementines in the living roomwhile she spoke with my father, words in Japanese droppinglike spiders from her lips, scurryingacross the carpet and into...
W. Todd Kaneko I watch my father crawlon the ceiling tonight, moving like a bat in the stalactites, a wishin the form of a man clingingto the plaster. I watch someoneelse’s father slither up the...
W. Todd Kaneko Art by Herlinde Spahr We will walk down to the beachwhere it’s always night, where the fish open themselvesand lay their guts across the stones, the fish we caught on the lineand the...
John Dudek It’s true you didn’t do this, didn’t breed in the long limb and overbuilt joints that deny the hardwood any give, that fold the dog like a yarn swift. It was built not for comfort...
Luciana Arbus-Scandiffio With my dress made of picnic blankets I set out for the tundra. I put on my clogs,my suit of gathered hairs. The coins collect in the crags outside and I collect...
Heikki Huotari Heikki Huotari in a past century attended a one-room school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower. He’s a retired math professor and has published poems in numerous...
