Archive for September, 2009
Thursday, September 10th, 2009
MOM’S CANOE by Rebecca Foust
Review by Joan Gelfand MOM’S CANOE by Rebecca Foust Texas Review Press John H. Lindsey Building Lewis Street 4354 TAMU College Station, Texas 77843-4354 ISBN-13 978-1933896274 2009, 40 pp., $12.95 http://www.amazon.com A quarry littered with shards of broken glass and trash; a canoe gliding effortlessly down a clean river; the revelation of blue black mountains; [...]
No Comments » - Posted in E-Reviews by Megan
Wednesday, September 9th, 2009
“The Dinner” by Chuck Augello
Chuck Augello THE DINNER We are both vegetarians but that never stops us from eating each other’s heart. Hers is served in a light vodka crème sauce, mine arrives without garnish. We have dined on each other so many times, it is a quick and joyless meal. Where once we tenderized and basted we now [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Tuesday, September 8th, 2009
“A Brief Note from Spencer” by Jon Andersen
Jon Andersen A BRIEF NOTE FROM SPENCER Hey—I don’t like to write but you wrote so I guess I got to send something back. I can really picture the mountains—not my thing, but it sounds like you got it made: all those trees and streams and mountain lakes and Margaret sounds like a gift of [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Monday, September 7th, 2009
“Scenic Postcard” by Paula Bonnell
Paula Bonnell SCENIC POSTCARD I am taking a vacation on the left bank of your heart. I wear my beret slouched to the left, dangle a smoldering Gauloise carelessly (in the American manner) in my right hand, take long walks by the Seine of your feelings. Sometimes the river barely moves, I think, but it [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Sunday, September 6th, 2009
“Three Rivers Meet, Become Falls” by Liz Robbins
Liz Robbins THREE RIVERS MEET, BECOME FALLS In the documentary film about the famous architect and his buildings, the lesser architect tries not to sound bitter and fails; in the interview, he describes why he’s the naysayer in a chorus of yesses for the famous one’s work: I hate to say he’s overrated, but… He [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Saturday, September 5th, 2009
STILL TO MOW by Maxine Kumin
Review by Mike Maggio STILL TO MOW by Maxine Kumin W.W. Norton 500 Fifth Avenue New York, N.Y. 10110 ISBN 978-0393333145 2007, 96 pp., $13.95 www.wwnorton.com In an interview with the Christian Science Monitor (“For Maxine Kumin, ‘Writing Is My Salvation’”), Maxine Kumin describes her disappointment in Denise Levertov for shifting from her superbly lyrical [...]
No Comments » - Posted in E-Reviews by Megan
Friday, September 4th, 2009
“Myopic” by Nahrain Al-Mousawi
Nahrain Al-Mousawi MYOPIC My mother wants Custody over my tactlessness, my nonsense And whatever else comes out of my mouth So that she can stick it in a frame and Prop it up on her sewing table But fancy needlework has ruined her eyes and The Muslim women who pay her for Embroidering and beading [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Thursday, September 3rd, 2009
“What Happens Here” by Susan J. Allspaw
Susan J. Allspaw WHAT HAPPENS HERE Off the stern, a Chinstrap penguin is lost and jumps to find a new home on this ship as it makes its way through the Southern Ocean to the next mooring. The penguin can’t reach the railing but attempts, as we all do when we are first learning to [...]
1 Comment » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009
“Daphne Swears Off It” by Susan Rich
Susan Rich DAPHNE SWEARS OFF IT She wants to answer yes no more— no more nuzzling of the earlobes, tussle of breasts, slow rolling acts of the tongue. Instead she takes another glass of lemon water, watches jasmine flowers unfurl into flying stars— raspberries ripen, their cells exploding. Though he licks each finger, sweetly massages [...]
2 Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Tuesday, September 1st, 2009
“Of Geese” by Arlene Ang
Arlene Ang OF GEESE and dear-john notes: the color is always the same—off-white, with grime somewhere between the left wing and Toronto. Rain washed away wet paint from the park bench. Up to the end, she blamed the weather. The classical CDs left in her music box are pirated copies, some titles smudged with liquor. [...]
