Someone from Home
Someone from Home by Donal Mahoney When I was a child we always went to church but only once a year as a family. My
Someone from Home by Donal Mahoney When I was a child we always went to church but only once a year as a family. My
On Opening a Book of Photographs by Kim Addonizio I look at them until I feel immune, a pile of bodies photographed by Lee Miller,
Being of Use by John Bennett I’m not a sports fan. I’m not a history buff. I’m not a religious man or keen on retirement.
On an unabashedly glorious afternoon this week, the poet and essayist Phillip Lopate stood in front of a small group of graduate students in Columbia
THE NIGHTSHIFT by Marc Carver I like writing when the rest of the world is dead Three, four in the morning the silence deafens you
Cows in Mysore by Denis Mair In that district of cow stalls, their haven is a palm-grown promenade. They return at twilight from their routes,
Thanks By W. S. Merwin Listen with the night falling we are saying thank you we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the
Gandy Dancer by Dennis Mahagin Sunday morning, and a train makes the sound of one that got away. Heard by a hundred lonely souls in
RADICAL by Hugh Fox Radical sirloin and onions, radical Chardonnet and thrust into deep-sleeping, flowing back into feudalism after the feuds were over, radicals bowels,
A Colander of Barley by Tami Haaland The smell, once water has rinsed it, is like a field of ripe grain, or the grain held