James Davis May: Out Too Far
His wife, he’ll find out later, is worried
he hates them. How to tell her
that he sometimes doesn’t know how
he’s ended up in bed?
James Davis May: Moonflowers
We praise the world by making
others see what we see. So now she points and feels
what must be pride when the bloom unlocks itself
from itself. And then she turns to look at me.
Laura McCullough: Another Winter Sunday (with passive aggression)
the diminishing body, wanting
any attention he can get
Kim Ports Parsons: May the Particles of My Body Travel the Endless Conduits
When I die, lay me in the loam under the big oak
on the path through the woods, deep down in the endless
flow of talk among the trees there…
Video: Wooden Wheel | A Filmmaker’s Tender Tribute to Her Seafaring Father
Grounded by a sailing injury, Arthur still finds solace in the Irish Sea.
Patricia Clark: My Father on a Bicycle
If you ever saw my father in shorts,
you wouldn’t forget his stick-thin legs,
the knees knobby as windfall dwarf apples.
Kimberly Parish Davis: Forever and Ever
…they watched television or surfed around the Internet for news about what was going on in Palestine. There had been a lot of fighting—a lot of bombed out buildings. One website told about the attack at the School where Hanna’s little brother was killed, and she was probably dealing with that while Emma was news surfing.
Bunkong Tuon: Two Poems
I wake up overwhelmed
with love. Time slows.
I hear each beating of
the wings on a hummingbird.
Joan E. Bauer: All But Lost
in the small print of NASA history
the story of my father: Harold E. Bauer,
known as Hal, technical director
of that workhorse, the Saturn IV-B.
Michael Simms: Satan and the Snowman
I don’t have relationships,
the old drunk explained
with surprising wisdom,
I take hostages.