A gentle and joyful invitation to intimacy and love towards ourselves by Saint Lucian poet Derek Walcott.
BY QUINCY MCMICHAEL Snow is water, and water conducts electricity, but the electric fence will not fire as usual, buried three feet deep.
BY SARA MCAULAY I’ve come here for raptors. Left my campsite at dawn, hiked down through blue shadows to the meadow.
Iowa poet Laura Johnson's "To the Daughter I Never Had" is a heart-rending work of what could have been, of loss, absence, and missed opportunities.
Anya Smith's three-part sequence poem, "Mountain Messaged Erotica", is narrative rife with outdoorsy rustic goodness and passion.
Pennsylvania poet Stephanie McConnell's "Palms" is a work of beauty, illuminating Saint Francis of Assisi.
Gently illuminating a story long important to civilization, poet Shanley McConnell grants readers a glimpse of Mary and the birth of her son.
BY BETH SHELBURNE This is for you, he says, dropping the wet, glistening shell into my open palm like a coin.
Poet and retired biologist Brigitte Goetze digs into her scientific background to offer readers something beautiful and wholly original.
E.E. Cummings reflects on the necessity of clearing, of letting go of the things we cling to, in order to make way for love.