Poetry

G.C. Waldrep April 20, 2018
What I thought was a black dog/ curled at one’s feet/ was a backpack with a gun in it.
To celebrate the sacred mysteries I nail the liturgy’s words on my tongue.
Jeffrey Essmann March 22, 2018
All human now, bereft of the divine
James Matthew Wilson March 08, 2018
A boy at a front door, a shadowy guest.
Terry Savoie February 23, 2018
 the prairie grass / sizzles in the wind
Philip Metres February 05, 2018
It's already late—where is the feast inside?