Kathleen O’Toole: Her Grip
Now, her magnificent grasp
of language diminished, her hands
express all there is to say: hold me,
stay with me. Don’t leave me alone.
Maryfrances Wagner: Hands (a poem translated to ASL by Eric Epstein)
Of a thousand hands
I’d know my father’s,
long fingers shaped like oars
Sydney Lea: Sunday Morning
…his left ring finger was hewn at the knuckle quite some years ago. If I think hard enough, I can remember when he was secretive about that injury. He kept the disfigured hand in his pocket or behind his back as much as he could.
Michael Simms: Oh Darlin’
The intimacy
Of strangers is luminous, the way
We wish well for the man who lost
His car keys, the woman coming in
Out of the rain, the girl who missed
Her bus, the boy who stutters.
Jason Baldinger: Résumé
apparently just to live
just to experience life
is not an acceptable trade
Michael Simms: The end of civilization as we know it
I want to apologize for walking in
When the dog was licking
Your bald head as you lay
On the couch drinking rum
Straight from the bottle…
Michael Simms: The Story of Autumn House Press (1998-2020)
Most literary presses fade away when the founder leaves, so I cannot tell you how much it thrills me that AHP continues into the second generation.
Thomas Sayers Ellis: All Their Stanzas Look Alike
All their Selected Collecteds
All their Oxford Nortons
All their Academy Societies
All their Oprah Vendlers
All their stanzas look alike
Michael Simms: Hands
Every man who works with his hands
Has seen that look. Maybe we showed up
To patch the roof, service the furnace,
Or unclog the sewer…
