Sep 062016
 

Denise Duhamel     I admit that I was drawn to the title of Andi Zeisler’s We Were Feminists Once: From Riot Grrrl to CoverGirl®, the Buying and Selling of a Political Movement because of my own poem “Bikini Kill Villanelle.”  In it I chronicle the Spice Girls’ co-opting of the Riot Grrrl movement, in [Read here]

Jun 272016
 

Rae Gouirand       Harriet Kelly had other plans for her middle son (Gene) – namely, the law. What else for a boy who dared to ride   a tricycle missing handlebars down Mellon Street, come home with an iron beam’s swipe under his cheek, fresh crescent   letting blood? What would she have [Read here]

Jun 232016
 

  Rae Gouirand     The question is always what I want, not what is wanting—   what end I will make of this walk which edge I will take for myself.   Before one blue one gold I know two things.   The same that has held me open leaves me to see. Our [Read here]

Jun 192016
 

Rae Gouirand     Box as metaphor, bowl as metaphor, one can’t help but compare—   —I look around my house at what it contains, which is   mostly open things, cross the valley I live in to find the place   endlessness reforms. Words like precise for the one,   free for the other, [Read here]

Jun 142016
 

Lauren Heaney   In his debut poetry collection, The Crossing, Jonathan Fink explores themes surrounding the human body and mind in relation to suffering, labor, and most prominently, the human condition. He begins with a poem entitled “The Crossing” and a short explanation of a Mindanao tribe belief that, “The soul leaves the body in [Read here]

Jun 102016
 

Julia Stone   Peckerwood by Jedidiah Ayres is a dark, action-packed novel that reads like a fast-paced screenplay. Published in 2013, this “western noir” set in the gutters of morality is reminiscent of AMC’s “Breaking Bad”; except, instead of Walter White and Jesse Pinkman’s mentor-mentee relationship, we witness the unlikely partnership between Sheriff Jimmy Mondale [Read here]

May 312016
 

Rae Gouirand     In one direction I thought elephants— trunks geometric, consistent, boxed.   Around those a border of phoenixes cascading from triangular forms.   All on a sea of red. For years I saw these   whenever I looked down and to the right; then I stopped entering the room.