Smoldering Dreams — a golden shovel poem after Robert Frost, author of Bond and Free Please, don’t cast your love on me, I fear I’ll splinter. Why has the wide-open country withered to earth and bone. To circling walls. To snow — smothering that which ventures out. A dream she
Winter is here and I ache with it. My chest shrivels up like all the dead things buried in the ground, or under a thin layer of ivory setting powder. My body slumbers in an icicle embrace. The flurries gust, shaking my thoughts snow globe style til I am as topsy turvy as the […]
We rented the house just north of Blissfield, the alley kitchen made for many traffic jams, though the only horns that would blare trumpeted the readiness of rosemary rye. The guest bedroom sweetened with sawdust, your cedar stain waging an aromatic war against my window silled peppermint.
By Lindsay Jankowski Cookbook for life Imagine life came with a cookbook, chock full of suggestions and answers to all of life’s problems. Unsure how to approach your mom about changing your career? Consult page 552 on “mother-daughter conflict” for a step-by-step list. Think you’re going
By Emma Gail Compton I made the table I eat dinner at. The wood was cheap but sturdy. The stain I chose is a dark oaky red and makes the small round table seem more expensive than it was. One could find something similar at any store, but this table, my table, I made. I […]
By Julia Voyt Pages and pages of 12 size Times New Roman are bled across the paper feverishly, introductions and statistics under methods and conclusions. Not eating food and my bicep is smaller this week I talk faster to my family and I write, write, write. The earth outside smells different and sw
