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This River, This Stone

She pauses by the river, stone in hand. A willow dangles, touching pools where light is caught and salmon ripen for their run. The maples let go, red leaves stick to boots and this small weight held in her palm is all and nothing. Edges–smoothed by currents, time, and chance–begin and end in water’s womb. The surface holds ...

The Grub Street Grackle Poetry Stimulus

Congress isn't going to do it. Nancy Pelosi has dug in her heels and won't pass a poetry stimulus bill that doesn't include 100,000 lines of epic verse. Mitch McConnell steadfastly declines even to call a vote on this vital issue. Meanwhile AOC and Ted Cruz are just fighting ad nauseam on Twitter about whether or not a defective ...

Hermitage Piece

The span of winter afternoons spreads out between the hollow moon’s two distant ends. It is a bear gone far ahead. It is elsewhere.   by Amos J. Hunt Original bio from the Fall 2008 edition: Amos J. Hunt is pleased that he gets a contributor bio this time. This poem first ran in the Fall 2008 edition of ...

Austin Sonnet

Sitting next to you as the sun goes down And dies a world of fire upon the lake. A raised glass empties all the sunset To your cheek; the table spreads horizon-wide. And we sit as we have come, apart By inches. Hundreds of miles of inches. Night comes on. A few boats. Voices drift From the water until they become ...