Archive for October, 2010
Thursday, October 21st, 2010
“Sustenance” by Art Nahill
Art Nahill SUSTENANCE In these few unclaimed hours, my wife has been weeding her way through the garden, stepping mindfully among the arugula and lettuces, the lavish tomatoes, a blue heron of contentment, arms, bared to rounded shoulders, deliberate, precise in their reach and recoil. Upstairs, my newborn son is stirring, fumbling at the latch [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Wednesday, October 20th, 2010
SOME ODD AFTERNOON by Sally Ashton
Review by Dean Rader SOME ODD AFTERNOON by Sally Ashton BlazeVox [books] 303 Bedford Ave. Buffalo, NY 14216 IBSN 9781935402817 2010, 93 pp., $16.00 www.blazevox.org In “Ander Alert,” Ander Monson’s winky essay about Googling other Anders, Monson discovers, paradoxically, that unearthing his namesakes actually makes him feel more alone, his significance diffused. “The more Anders [...]
1 Comment » - Posted in E-Reviews by Megan
Tuesday, October 19th, 2010
“Loss” by Louis McKee
Louis McKee LOSS When I was young I left my new kid gloves on a bus coming home from school, said they must have fallen from my pockets—my mother didn’t want to hear that I hated gloves, that I liked cold hands, fingers, and pockets they fit into better. I had a cap; this was [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Monday, October 18th, 2010
“Ladies” by Krista Miranda
Krista Miranda LADIES He told me to please take my “ladies off the bar counter”— as if my breasts were sweat rings from a tumbler. You see, I leaned forward to read Amaretto labels. Even my hair fell in folded pools on the waxed, wooden surface. This is about decorum. My palms are powdered and [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Sunday, October 17th, 2010
“A Common Glory” by Robert Middlemiss
Robert Middlemiss A COMMON GLORY We were boys, fourteen years old. Our teacher, Mr. Jones, was a Welshman who affected the now dated British fashion of stuffing his handkerchief into his sleeve. It was l952. When we heard the noise it was a small jarring sound, but as Mr. Jones talked to us it grew, [...]
2 Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Saturday, October 16th, 2010
“Strip Clubs, Tampa” by Ken Meisel
Ken Meisel STRIP CLUBS, TAMPA Everyone has a story, even the woman dancing here in front of me fully undressed, and waving herself like a palm tree in front of my face at a strip club in Tampa, way back in 1983 while the music thundered through the booths like a flood. Can you believe [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Friday, October 15th, 2010
ASPENS IN THE WIND by Clifton Snider
Review by James Benedict PhD ASPENS IN THE WIND by Clifton Snider Chiron Review Press 522 E. South Ave St. John, KS 67576-2212 ISBN 0943795850 2009, 72 pp., $12.00 www.chironreview.com Clifton Snider’s ninth volume of poetry Aspens in the Wind comes after nearly a decade, where he has focused on fiction, writing the autobiographical novel [...]
No Comments » - Posted in E-Reviews by Megan
Thursday, October 14th, 2010
“Visitation” by Michael Medrano
Michael Medrano VISITATION At the rosary my grandmother is at the casket having a conversation with the container that once kept my grandfather’s soul. At this moment she does not know about the role of the mortician that prepared my grandfather’s body after his unexpected death. She is not aware of the slippage of unpaid [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Wednesday, October 13th, 2010
“Tending the Grass” by Marissa McNamara
Marissa McNamara TENDING THE GRASS When my husband goes out to water the lawn cigarette dangling from his mouth and shirtless I’m afraid that the police will show up and arrest him since the only white guys I see caught on “Cops” are tattooed (like my husband) although usually they have homemade tattoos which have [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Tuesday, October 12th, 2010
“As Fire, My Father” by Michael P. McManus
Michael P. McManus AS FIRE, MY FATHER My father as fire melts December snow with each step he takes through a Pennsylvania field. But there is no field there is no snow, only a mud-rutted road where my father walks as fire under a sky filled with molten geese, which now know the horror of [...]
