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Table of contents
Her poetry is part of Broadsides on the Bus, , a collaborative effort celebrating Cape Cod poets and artists. The theory is simple - if unbelievable. Two particles - say electrons - interact, Then move apart - across a room, Across the universe - it does not matter. The New York Times, November 16, Once you and I came to be one of two Together, word for word and eye to eye, Flesh with flesh, hand in hand close before you Were obliged to leave. Your dusty goodbye Of wandering particles carried where, Among the stars, the galaxies, you are No longer bound within my atmosphere.
Your voyage perhaps infinitely far From me, and yet simultaneously There seems to be, between us, no distance To be crossed. I am deliberately Entangled in every dance you dance. No cosmic obstacle exists that will, While you are dancing, force me to be still. Philip E. Burnham, Jr. His website is pebjr. Even if all those we ever loved, leaving, went lightly, and we knew they would return,. She currently lives in Wellfleet MA.
The work of writing poetry, with its careful attention to sound and rhythm, is a kind of meditation that helps her see connections that might otherwise go unnoticed. It is a bitter stick we chew. Nan Byrne has worked in television production since and is the writer and story producer of seven award winning documentaries.
Rhyme Scheme | Power Poetry
She is the editor of a short story collection, Bar Stories , a collection of essays, Ourselves as Students: Multicultural Voices from the Classroom , and a chapbook, Uncertain Territory. Outside, my other patients wait their turns. Campo is a prolific poet and essayist who is also a practicing physician. Once, he was mist. Clung to my long face singing wet whispers to kill the evening as if no one had ever touched me before, I believed in the transformation he spoke of.
Hanging his white hat on their coarse fingers, he brushed the nearby evergreens praising juniper and sounding quite feminine. Yes, he touched others. I know better. A few mornings of the week, he slips into womanhood, wanting to minister, to coddle us with healing water, dons a dress and keeps low to the ground, kissing, kissing, humble as blue. Until I met him, I feared the rains like they were my own body but now welcome his routine. See him engorged, trotting mountaintops with a band of cousins, gray as a military coat, coming for us all. I write to end the mistreatment of female bodies and psyches.
I write to unearth my own inner workings. Theater infiltrates my thinking about poetry.
Image, metaphor, sound, and the act of play are vital to my work. Folklore, history, pop culture, badass women, true and false love, cross-pollination of art forms, and the surreal inspire me. Community, more important now than ever, invigorates my work and life. Mass Poetry is an integral part of my literary and personal journey.
Last week packing our things to move back to the North Shore after renting near Boston for a year, my daughter and I argue outside the rented house. It was all I needed then, a cool fall day, my kids climbing something, my back against a wooden bench watching, a cup of tea warming my hands. Kevin is also a long time, dedicated fan of the Boston Celtics. He owned a pet shop and raised nightingales. On this particular morning of November 27, he had just finished sprinkling food in his birdcages when a car filled with gunmen pulled up and in front of a crowd he was grabbed by his shirt and driven off.
His body was found the next morning at a sewage treatment plant. He had been hogtied, drilled with power tools and shot. It takes time to hate that way, day after day. They did not spare you their inhumanity. Her collection of poems, Strike Root , won the Four Way Book Prize for a first volume of poetry and was published by that press. Paul, MN. She resides and works on Cape Ann. Chase lives in Western Massachusetts. Visit www. You will leave for Thanksgiving with renewed atheist fervor. Your uncles will be appalled. Your aunts, amused. You will cease to believe in online dating for a while.
You will sit with a bowl of freshly microwaved vegetable soup. Like the speaker of his poem, Chen Chen does not believe in astrological signs or spirits from the beyond. Poulin, Jr. Chen grew up in Amherst and the Boston area. He holds degrees from Hampshire College and Syracuse University. Rupert Giles.
For more, visit chenchenwrites. Each house curves a may-open story if you follow his way.
Do not open touch-up doors. Some days each empty family get magnify, get reproduce. Under blue pattern, specific parameter. Only within my limits, our glazed family under spotlights. Place myself in pattern of protection.
12222 Titles — in alphabetical order
Brother bright and bent over each small man, kiss belly and grip, each whiskey put off to sea. Dream door came. First published in Better: Culture and Lit. They are a senior editor of The Conversant. Find them online at www. Floyd Cheung: Jazz at Manzanar "That was jazzy. Three men, white-haired and buzz-cut, led us in the pledge of allegiance, but after the first twelve words, they could not agree, except that their versions were half as long as the original and full of verve.
In , Bob, Kimbo, and Jack were sent to camp with more than a hundred thousand others. One wish. When they liberated Dachau, survivors were confused by their faces. Wir sind Amerikaner," Bob reassured. Over the years, in how many ways must these three have pledged allegiance? Originally published in: Naugatuck River Review, summer His poems have appeared in qarrtsiluni , Rhino , and other journals. Now comes rainy May, gray skies, tulips laden with weeping. Saw a weasel step across the grass. First, there was a bronze hummingbird, then the weasel turning its head.
In the tidepools, blood star with its thin arms and red California sea cucumber. No music after ten p. Sparrows silent except for rustling in the hemlock, whisper and wink of salmonberry. Patricia Clark is the author of five books of poetry, most recently The Canopy. She was the poet laureate of Grand Rapids, MI from , and she teaches creative writing at Grand Valley State University in Michigan where she is also poet in residence. Her mother Norma Collins grew up in Massachusetts, and the whole Clark family made an epic train trip long ago from Washington State to Boston, Massachusetts.
Norma extolled the virtues of swimming in saltwater; some of these poems express that love along with Patricia's complicated relationship with her mother.
Obituaries
Robert J. The sergeant sets the throttle: troll. Rain for days. Shellfish strain decay. The log's lurch settles in my gut. It surfaces: threadbare, Goodyear. A chopper whops overhead. All I got is arm. A skinny black kid! Come about.