Robert Wrigley: A Similar While
The window-walloped chickadee that burst
from the hollow of her hands at her chest
startled her
Kai Coggin: Essence
and did you know these tiny sprouts
these little leaves and baby greens
already hold the heavy flavors of their final selves?
Naomi Shihab Nye: Little Farmer
how right he was about slowness,
the path of sunlight through leaves,
how dirt has always befriended me,
Doug Anderson: Underneath the sequined day there are tunnels
We enter them in sleep, hang our masks
on a hook and our names are erased.
Michael Simms: Tootling Along
I hope you don’t mind my sharing links to my own recent publications.
Barbara Hamby: New Orleans Dithyramb
And Satan said unto the Lord, “You have your work
and I have mine, but there is no sin the world
cannot hold,” and the Lord, he laughed himself a big one
Michael Simms: Zed
rock the baby in our arms
so mom can sleep in the next room,
hours sliding by like gentle ghosts
Video: Lucille Clifton reads “won’t you celebrate with me”
won’t you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life?
James Crews: Possibility Still Exists
The smell of smoke’s now in the air,
which means a fire is not far off.
Which means something will kindle in you
if you let it
Chard deNiord: Turning 70
I know at last how to smile and not smile
at the same time in a way without trying that says,
“I’ve tasted ambrosia and mustard in the same bite
so many times my tongue’s lost its taste.
Michael Simms: Scarecrow
The scarecrow watched over
His congregation, even as wind
And storms tore at his clothes
And the crows grew to know
His indecisive guardianship
Kurt Brown: Road Trip
Once in Kansas, I stood in a field and watched
the stars on the horizon revolve around my ankles.
People are always moving, even those standing still
because the world keeps changing around them, changing them.
Dawn Potter: Play Clothes
How many summers
did that red and white sundress last?
It was my mother’s before it was mine
Barbara Hamby: Ode to My 1977 Toyota
Engine like a Singer sewing machine, where have you
not carried me—to dance class, grocery shopping,
into the heart of darkness and back again?
