The Invention of the Snowman
Somewhere beyond the bounds of sleepmy bones undressed, rising from their fleshto become this selfless, falling dust. It was then I wanted earswith which to hear the familiar criesof those children building me. And of course I had no eyesonly this unfailing bandage of...
Dennis Hinrichsen
Poem of Mercy No one poem is enough. Noone poem contains the mercyI seek, the forgiveness. There are nowords that can approachthe tufts of fine black hairon the backs of doctor's handsas he dialed my home that nightfrom one of the side rooms,then choked, looking out...
Joan Colby
Conservation I write to you on the stationeryof the chairman of the board of a defunct company.Tell you how I'm tryingto assemble my life with the simple logicof electronic components. Everythingcomes apart in my hands, I can'tcomprehend schematics. What works must...
Lynne Cawood Howard
In 1982, Lynne Cawood Howard wrote the perfect coronavirus poem. The Miner's Son My father died in his fortieth winterwhen the black scars that were his lungsgave in with one final breath.Though I have not reached thirty, I wake up coughing and hear the rattle in my...
Barrelhouse Reviews “Come to the X”
Check out Alison Turner's review of Julia's latest book: https://www.barrelhousemag.com/onlinelit/2020/01/wendell-cometothex
Debbie Robson Reviews “Days of Summer Gone”
How can someone from half way across the world and growing up in a completely different culture assemble imagery in such a way that you understand completely what is being said? You have felt the same way and marvel at how they move you with their melancholy. But...
Joe Bolton
Days of Summer Gone It's too late to go back to that apartmentIn Bowling Green, Kentucky, where we slept togetherSo many nights. I wonder if whoever lives there nowAnd fucks in that bed ever wonders about us? If memory's any good gauge, the placeMust be ghosted with...
Joe Bolton
The Distance As seen in Days of Summer Gone, Galileo Press, 1990 Two women are hugging each other goodbyeOn the sidewalk in the tree-shadowOf a late spring afternoon. It is notSexual, though both are beautiful.And though both are tall and litheUnder their dark hair,...
Jennifer Key
The Horizon Has a Horrible Way of Disappearing "You probably weren't going to get pregnant anyway." He meant it to be reassuring but it was a horrible thing to hear—the finality of her husband's statement. What was the point, after all, of announcing a thing that...
Pat Rushin // First Two, Last Two Series
Man Stabbed in Heart Runs 3 Blocks Somebody died out there. Right there outside Morton's window overlooking Georgetown across the Potomac where he and Emily will be moving this coming weekend into a $900-a-month townhouse that Emily claims they can well afford now...
