A poem from the Winter 2013 issue.
Veronica is lovely. She wipes the dust from Christ’s face in the carving
beside Simon, though she is never mentioned in the Gospels.
A poem from the Fall 2016 issue.
A poem from the Fall 2016 issue.
A poem from the Fall 2016 issue.
mark, garlic in the grain that infuses
Poetry from the Summer 2016 issue.
Contemporary fiction writers can play hard for the joke, as if writing to a laugh-track, but Joy Williams’s humor is darker, subtler, more in line with the humor of Faulkner or Isaac Babel: bracing, unsettling.
A poem from the Spring 2016 issue.
Two wasps copulate over your back porch—
their wings grate the air above the ochre splotch
where a hawk took down a pigeon last winter
not long after your move into the yellow house
A poem from our Spring 2016 issue.
Home, I follow the roads passing the fruit orchards and the roaring white sheds of honey. The / clouds—always inclined to thunder. The rain travels west from the mountains.
The carpets, the paneling, the overstuffed recliner. Chainsaw carving
on the TV, kerosene lantern for thunderstorms, girl
within reach. Stained glass figures in the panes.
