Poetry | June 2023

On Writing Poetry

To convey one thing of worth out of the darkish
is an effective and horrible, exacting work.
—Christopher Porpora


If you happen to want to clip her wings,
deprive her of her stressed pleasure,
then it’s best to need the type of issues
that go away a woman like her destroyed.
However if you happen to toss her to the air,
for all of the world to see in flight,
you’ll have discovered the energy to share
with all of the world your coronary heart’s delight.
—John Duvall


The federal government was handing out 160-acre parcels.
Decided, Samuel insisted we head west after listening to an actual property agent brag on the assure of the rain following the plow. By pushing the farrowed soil deep, moisture was created. It was a scientific reality.

We hoarded each treasured penny for a contemporary begin.

Loads of land was simply waitin’ to be conquered with dig and seed. A kind of Oklahoma plots had his title proper on it.
His title

My husband usually opined how the huge expanse of grain took on a purple hue at daybreak. That’s the closest that man ever got here to being poetic.
About wheat!

I birthed infants.
4 died at childbirth.
Franny made it to 5 earlier than the consumption took her.
Almost killed me, burying my little ones.
The bottom demanded every thing, even the entombment of hope.

All this was the earlier than occasions, not the after.

Then got here hell on earth.
The heavens didn’t, wouldn’t, provide one drop of rain.
Samuel took to looking at cloud patterns, citing to nobody, besides possibly the emaciated horse, that he was certain that the vault of heaven was nearly to open.

Throughout a two-day mud storm, the barn disintegrated because it was plummeted by the tempest.
Thousands and thousands of kilos of earth we had so toiled upon blew from our aspirations to as far-off as Chicago.

Then like the story of Job, our struggling solely elevated.

The earth heaved and thrashed.
I couldn’t see my husband, although we stood solely ft aside.
An everlasting starvation left us empty with longing.

Samuel put salt on his boot and shoved it greedily into his parched mouth.
They killed him, these farm footwear.

Dust coursed by means of the papers ma had despatched me. As I learn these recipes, my fingers traced apart the high quality particles of blowing turmoil, imagining satisfying tastes like that of a baked potato.
I ate them papers, chewing them slowly.

Uselessly I labored my broom in a dreamish frenzy, resolved to overcome the warrior terrain. Lastly, one nook of the home was left standing, together with a chair, my broom, and the nice e-book.

The land was as barren as I used to be.
From mud, all of us return.

—Lucinda Abra


Because the home windows
of the home

inform me the
time of day

in mild

her vase set
on the eating
room desk

tells me the
time of

in flower

—Ryan Brennan

Mandatory Issues

She mentioned, if you happen to want
a glass in a nook,
then I’m your lady,

the one ready for you
below the intense cup
of wind bending

across the moon’s wrist,
braceleting the moon
as you bracelet me,

filling and filling
the cup, the glass, me
and all that I maintain.

—Robert Harlow

Blue Sky
for Sylvie Degiez Lopes

Stroll the mountain
On a regular basis
Blue Sky
New snow
On branches
Don’t need to go
We keep
Life occurs
All the things is
—Stacy Advantageous-Hager

To the Eyes Drawn by Piper Levine

These eyes have sipped the sunshine out of the moon.
These eyes have chosen a watch shadow the colour of daybreak.
These eyes have answered the thousand tiny eyes of the birds singing the daybreak refrain
with a silence by no means earlier than heard by the birds or by anybody else,
a silence discovered on the darkish facet of the moon,
the place silence has been preserved throughout the unbroken eons of time,
the place one phrase spoken aloud can be an earthquake.
Two, neglect about it.
Two phrases like, Hello Mother
Or three like, Goodbye.

It’s true, these eyes have by no means spoken a phrase, however they aren’t silent.
They make a sound just like the molten core of the earth boiling however muffled beneath our ft,
A sound like daylight ping ponging by means of the ambiance to provide us a blue sky,
A sound like our minds in that uncommon second we don’t know what to say subsequent.
Then we do.
We are saying, Give up staring, please, it’s not well mannered.

These eyes are too giant, they know an excessive amount of, they’ve seen every thing we do:
Our first kiss & our final, our weddings & divorces, our forgotten passwords,
Our cross-eyed lives that haven’t turned out as we deliberate.
Possibly you’ve seen these eyes in cartoons or on marble statues,
However you haven’t. These eyes are distinctive.
Offended, intrepid, unblinking.
They gained’t cease till the solar burns out.
& they’ll lastly see every thing in darkness.
Then they’ll be free to discover a new dwelling within the universe.

—Will Nixon

Lent in Late Capitalism

I’ve gone and offered the house between my cortex and my cranium,
the tulips in my backyard—and my soul is damned to hell—
the marrow from my tibia, the gate guarding my grass.
Heaven assist, me even pawned a portion of my ass!
The mud out of my pockets, for I’ll forfeit each speck
and donate to Him tendons the place my physique intersects.
And though I’m married, I’ll abstain from having intercourse!
I haven’t had the time for a lot besides the holy textual content.
But when it pleases God to look at me give him much more,
I’ll quick for forty days and nights as Jesus did earlier than,
and as soon as I’ve went and bartered with the satan alone,
then God will certainly assist repay the curiosity on my mortgage.
—Matt Second

Whereas I Meditate I Write This Haiku

the insides of my
   hips trembling
                    the place you mentioned you
wished to kiss them

—chelsea rae

You Know

That is about, , these occasions
you’re listening to the, , radio
and somebody is being interviewed who,

, says “” so usually
through the interview, , you begin
noticing it and, , you get so

distracted by it you begin, ,
counting the “you is aware of” and, ,
you haven’t any thought what they’re saying

as a result of, , it’s change into all about,
, how usually they are saying “,”
and, nicely, , what I imply.

—Matthew J. Spireng

Spring break. I crack open the window for contemporary air.
Dealing with the north. Wind carries off all of the tears.
Butterflies on a limb. Gathering for a photograph shoot.

—Frances Greenhut


Magnificent hungry mouths
to feed. The prey
and ours, two dad and mom,
5 daughters.
I consider nature
roasted and stewed.
My father used crimson nail polish
to color the sights of his rifles.
Their gunstocks he spent hours
checkering, the grip and forearm,
with cutters and high quality information.
He would end the shares
with linseed oil and wax.
I used to be a child. All I knew was
this was his craft and he liked
deer searching.

—Cathryn Shea


My good friend Ralph
all the time complains
about life’s routine

“It by no means ends,”
he whines.

However he’s flawed.
It does.
It ends.

—George J. Searles

I Don’t Know How Many Occasions

I Need to Inform You I Don’t Need Youngsters
now that i’m older
i really feel the vacancy brewing
on the comfortable, fleshy bit beneath
my navel and –
it doesn’t hassle me.
i feel i want
the warmth and dew
that journey south
for pure recreation
slightly than an opportunity
at motherhood.

—Fiona Emmi


Like good intercourse,
poetry mustn’t
need to be defined,
simply loved.

—Thomas Bonville