A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
The only connection I felt to the mills
was to the children of a generation of flayed men
on unemployment, the storefronts boarded…
A tree falls does anyone care if it makes it into this poem? A poem bone deep and raw, broken into bark and hanging on to the edge of a … Continue reading →
Into those warm, wet fields again and again, where we came, pulled by the blur of light, after the last soccer game in the July dark, we walked off … Continue reading →
You were afraid they could tell by looking you were that kind of man, because of the dead deer who dove into the front end of your truck head … Continue reading →
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