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Poetry

Midwestern

Sometimes poems start with nouns. Could we even go so far as to say all poems begin their at-first fragile lives with the solidity of nouns? In the dark we move, and that moving matters when we bump into something or when our bare foot, warm from the bedclothes, comes down flesh against angle, onto a Lego block. Through the day we touch nouns: a pen, a handlebar, a coffee cup, our ear, a book’s spine, our beloved’s spine; or we long to touch, dream of touching, imagine touching,...

A person

Most poems are written in the space between what Wallace Stevens called the “nothing that is not there and the nothing that is,” issued from silence and seeking the resonance and depth of silence. Like Elijah, poets stand on mountaintops and witness fires, earthquakes, and storms, all while waiting for a word from the Divine. Jake Adam York’s poetry inhabited such space—we might call it the via double-negative—with the highest ethical and aesthetic integrity. His were poems of...

Buildings

My arsenal when I enter my poetry workshops is seemingly innocuous: a pen, a 99¢ notebook, and a clay mug that contains a stapled together tea bag.  The tea, bought in bulk, doesn’t hint toward a distant land like Masala Chai nor does it promise a feeling like Calm Chamomile. No, my stuff is just stuff that one could have purchased, and did purchase, decades ago.

After I arrange my supposedly timeless things, it doesn’t take long before I start in on a...

Human shadow

Felicia Zamora’s Poem “A Long Road Never Takes Us” Will Appear In Nar Issue 302.1.

What brings you to the page? The incessant lull of the image? Perhaps the habitual pace around the desk, in taunt of your time? The spark of unexplainable inspiration that requires you to bolt toward any mechanism of capture to get it down? The guilt...

Freaky Dance Party Illustration

The lines/images that trigger my poems rarely stick as the entrance to the final product of my poems. Something that interests me about “Tips for Your Quarter-life Crisis” is that its first line has always been its first line. Well, the first line actually used to be “Don’t feed your kale salad to the wolves,” but when the poem went through a workshop, one of my peers pointed...

A barnyard under water

“Moss Called Pond” First Appeared In Nar Issue 301.4.

 

“Moss Called Pond” chronicles a conversation with water pondering, among other subjects: consumption, wonder, space, temporality, and people known only through pond, by layer and suspended sediment. So, in speaking with a small pond near where I...

Nightfall

Our Thanksgiving Series Comes To An End With A Piece From Our 290.6, Nov-Dec Of 2005 Issue

By Richard Cecil

The Night After Thanksgiving

As freezing wind made branches whip and snap,
a silver—rat? raccoon? no,possum—stopped
on the sidewalk up ahead and looked back
at me and I looked back at her and stopped....

Sweet Alaska image

Thanksgiving Day – November 24, 2016 – #Givethanks


Today’s Poem Was Selected To Remind Us All Of How Truly Special Thanksgiving Is. Cherish Those Around You And Again, Happy Holiday!


...

Image of a person

Happy Pre-Thanksgiving From The North American Review

Man holding his face

Artwork by: Clay Rodery 

Kindness

Been there, done that...

Pages

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