A poem from our spring 2015 issue.
It’s Derby Day. And it’s been 30 years since 1984 when I stood in the grandstand at Churchill Downs after betting my last $20 on Swale that horse I groomed and watched as he pulled away from Wayne Lukas’s great filly Althea to win the 110th running of the race. Thirty years and a lot of souls have risen to the upper register of life and my own life has been made more reachable by what their love did to me.
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.
Poetry from the Summer 2016 issue.
A poem from the Fall 2017 issue.
I have tried to carry a persimmon home,
to share one fruit. I passed the tree running,
a pursuit which allows no pockets, no bags.
Needs no equipment. No team.
A poem from the Fall 2018 issue.
A young couple scutters by
On a motorbike. Harley, I think.
On their way to the beach. I can
See his feet are bare, resting inches
From the muffler’s burning heat—oh
The recklessness of young men
That makes them so exciting
To fuck, and sends them off
To war, whistling and marching.
A poem from the Summer 2019 issue.
and I forgot to eat
I’m banqueting on a spice
that’s not on this table
A poem from the summer 2014 issue.
I turn on the porchlight
so the insects will come,
so my skin that drank of you
can marvel at how
quickly it becomes enraged,
a luscious feast. I'm waiting
As we send our thoughts to the community of Charleston, South Carolina, we remember Marcus Wicker’s tribute to Trayvon Martin—this poem from our Spring 2015 issue.
Poems from the Summer 2018 issue.
How convenient when the brain
starts to glow. You can help
an injured peacock out of the road
without being pecked to death.
A poem from the Fall 2018 issue.
of a copper-colored river
returns, prefers her wrists
cuffed
by swift currents
rather than caution-stilled
by the many sister-gazes.
