Almanac Summer— scratching surface yields cooler ground. Winter’s deeper—reach down beneath the frost line— warm as worms. Lick a finger in the wind. We know nothing. But the dogs always plant their bellies in a temperate zone. About the... Continue Reading →
The Swamp Oak Balding leafage lets the eye slip through to scabrous bark that runs past rot holes hiding squirrels. Twisted branches contort around power lines, reaching upward and straining to recover grace. The tree sways toward a century it... Continue Reading →
Fragmented I am a prism, the pieces of myself fragmented into color-coded chambers. I am a spectrum split between wavelengths of refracted inferred and iridescent radiance. I isolate, absorb, and reflect. I am a double helix, fighting upstream on a... Continue Reading →
Inspiration Buffet: This week’s buffet features "Since you asked" a poem from Jane Attuncci's chapbook First Mud. Her poem delivers the question of, "Are you writing the poem or is the poem writing you?" Since you asked - by Jane Attanucci... Continue Reading →
Now that I think about it I don't understand the bumble bee, why it wastes time impregnating flowers. I hate commitment, imagine myself coasting around, never stopping long enough to foster growth of any kind. Then I see my nephew,... Continue Reading →
Process spinning circle that tells us thinking is going on a wait sputtering sound the car is trying to turn over just not quite yet not quite yet. About the Poet: Nate Maye is a rising poet from Texas.... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 