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Concordia College ~ Moorhead Minnesota
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Category: Poetry

Poetry

What Love Is ~ Christopher Locke

Posted on June 11, 2013

    Love is not a maiden with apple buffed hair. No. Love is eating rare tuna steak and swallowing your dental bridge in the process, three jagged teeth sl...

Poetry

Bombs in Springtime ~ Anna Lowe Weber

Posted on June 11, 2013

    We were lost in the yellow of spring             when the bombs went off.  All over our backyard, irises were erupting   from the ground, laying claim ...

Poetry

For The End Times ~ Robin Chapman

Posted on June 11, 2013

    What heals, what carries us through? Music for the closing of eyes, to carry us through the dark; and the rise and fall of remembered words, and compan...

Poetry

Watering the Maple ~ Laurie Lamon

Posted on June 11, 2013

    My mother watered in the dark in porch light: reading hour, tucking in hour; she hauled wheelbarrows of trees wrapped in burlap.   Once I fak...

Poetry

Threshold ~ Theresa D. Smith

Posted on April 30, 2013

    She follows you everywhere. You’ve heard other people say  they’ve forgotten a voice, or a face, but right now   even the exact quality of her fin...

Poetry

Bury Me in Wicker ~ Pepper Trail

Posted on April 30, 2013

    I burdened the world enough, alive. In death, let me not be impervious, indigestible, not another container locked, sealed, and stacked Beneath an...

Poetry

All Things Under The Sun ~ Paul Allen

Posted on November 29, 2012

Baltimore, Maryland   Going from Hard Rock to the other shops Across Inner Harbor, the little girl In blue shorts, yellow T, catches on To her grandpa’s ga...

Poetry

Singing ~ Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum

Posted on November 29, 2012

    What do I know of God but that each winter I thank him for it? No spider webs snagged in the bluestem, no horseflies at rest in cones of henbit, no slu...

Poetry

I Don’t Know How She Learned of Sadness ~ Paul Dickey

Posted on November 29, 2012

  I don’t know how she learned of sadness. Our curriculum was always joy. When we lost all her houses, she lived well enough in mine. When we quarreled   o...

Poetry

The Lingerhut ~ Donald Morrill

Posted on November 29, 2012

    It straddles the brook, Holding its builder’s poem: “On Doing Nothing;”    Four chairs, three empty— Which is most alone? The hike Yesterday is here,  ...

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Vincent Reusch, Editor
email: ascent@cord.edu

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