by Peter Grandbois Here is the sunrise withering all we desire with unearned grace Here is our first mistake throbbing with intimations...

by Jeff Gundy Only a few of us ever need to whistle Vivaldi to reassure the nervous suburbanites. Some of us answer “tired old prof” when...

by Francis Fernandes The accordion and guitar wheeze and strum into contortions of love, a double helical staircase, or the unseen...

by Nick Conrad Crops of plenty gone in an instant, the combine’s quick harvest leaving enough still for days of grazing, snout close to...

by Bethany Bowman I no longer listen to Christian radio; its choruses pop and sap, and bellowing, caviling voices of Southern evangelical...

—Cudahy Woods, 2020 by Jacob Riyeff Sleet and stiff breeze cold about the ears, the children tramp along, rejoice in chilled mud...

by Peter Grandbois What I am trying to say is that long ago I walked into a field. What I mean is that long ago I had a choice. Or...

by Yvonne Nguyen i. Buying a house for the way the snow huddles on the front porch on the coldest day of the year is like loving a sad...

by Paul Ilechko Tell me everything you know about the orange sky     the way the mass of cloud hangs low at sunset     and the way that...

By Lawrence Wray A wooden footbridge reaches over the stream where the available sunlight is diffuse on the Touch-me-nots. I made for...

By Brian Phipps For Emily 1. Nativity On the Feast of the Birth of the Theotokos And didn’t her arrival change all things? So long they...

by Matthew J. Andrews Mine is a manna-spirit, a holy being with an apron tied around its waist, who finds me when I am aimless and gently...

by Paul Ilechko Red-faced against tenderness the blood rush the heat rush her as distance closing her as apparition as ghostly...

In ten years children will ask about the tiny holes polka dotting storefronts across America. They’ll put their small fingers into them...

by Ahrend Torrey Some people talk to animals. Not many listen though. — A.A. Milne You won’t see them in your business suit. You won’t...

By William Ingogly What do you know of light, little heart’s voice, little calling in the darkness? The silence fears the word you carry...

By Lawrence Wray Which poets were called for by losing a voice? When they had I knew instantly my own lack, and returned to their poems...

by Seth Jani In the deserts of mid-July I occasionally found a light, cold and crystalized, hidden away from the world in the summer...

by Todd C. Truffin Ice hiding in spent shade— while sun gropes with blind rays past rust and salt, shivering in gusts oblivious—hopes...

by Matthew J. Andrews It is here, under the heavy blanket of silence that accompanies exile, with the body cut in patterns by the skin...