Category: Poetry

after On Grand River, oil on canvas, 42” x 50 ½”, by Frank Weston Benson, c. 1920 High noon, the water bright as the idea the man had thirty minutes ago when he...

Kant argues that when you make a choice you must act “under the idea of freedom”…The point is not that you must believe that you are free, but that you must cho...

    All my exhortations to show up at the studio door, the desk, the page— what’s missing still? The willingness to pay attention to the everyday—to s...

  Three days into the school year—her thirtieth!— And already she divines the full-grown men and women Marked to inherit these slight torsos, these paste-slathe...

    We bake bread in new pans guaranteed for a lifetime. He shapes and turns while I add more flour.  We knead together, each our own share. Our stran...

Someone who won’t bat an eye at a used shirt or tie, who will riffle through a rack of dresses and shirts then crowd with you in the rickety dressing room to tr...

  As soon as you catch his eye, let it go, and when he has your ear, quit listening. If that doesn’t work, fall back into your body whenever gravity return...

  “remarkable ponds and/cattails” Robin Blaser   Five bluegill, a rock bass, one pumpkinseed, & several finger length perch for tossing back, all ...

  after Paul Cezanne, “Still Life with Skull” Pears, peaches, and apricots, the blushing orange-red, the trendy coral now available everywhere that you see...

  Each day I walk to the creek knowing I long ago gave up my mother’s heaven. My family’s reunion is taking place fifty miles away —a pig sliced open in ho...