January 25th, 2012
Angie Macri
Tags/ Posted by Kathleen KirkI like to hear what Wordsworth ate: suet, chops, potatoes – he was never well but trod the miles dejected while his sister bakedcontinue reading this poem
The mud has frozen, so all beasts go on their paths without leaving prints among the stones.
January 11th, 2012
Scott Poole
Tags/ Posted by Kathleen KirkIn a bubble bath Of Kandinsky shapes A universe of rings Circling in an orbitcontinue reading this poem
He couldn’t sit still from the knocking inside the body, from the faint shouting, thinking this must be love.
December 14th, 2011
Mary Biddinger
Tags/ Posted by Kathleen KirkYou marvel at mosslight & owl-screech, question if keening is important—the dirge of bees swarming at the windowsills, the roosters that only crow at night.continue reading this poem
We all kept grinding our respective pestles into the assigned mortars, despite the lack of intrinsic beauty.
November 30th, 2011
Bertha Rogers
Tags/ Posted by Kathleen KirkA half-naked woman dove into this pool in December.continue reading this poem
But all she really wanted was trees, leaves, a clean counter. She wanted to knock at a door that never opened. That would suffice.
