It’s strange how hair is a body part—it’s yours and it isn’t. It belongs as much to you as your height, your hands, your nose. It binds you to the ancestors who […]
Song of Wanton Locks
The Truth About Pip: Dogs, Divorce, and Memoir
Originally posted on The Border Collie Inquisitor:
Casey loved any kind of play Some readers of my memoir, For the Love of a Dog, say the end dissatisfies them. If I loved…
Anything Helps, God Bless
by Gianna Russo Next time, you’ll notice them in their Sunday clothes, the orange-yellow vests that once a week declare to the church-goers waiting at the red light on Hillsborough Avenue they […]
“Charlotte Managed” — Praise for Terry Godbey’s “Hold Still.”
by Martin Achatz, an editor at Passages North, “Wilbur admired the way Charlotte managed… “Charlotte the spider is a survivor. She doesn’t depend on Lurvy to bring her food. She doesn’t scrounge through […]
Fast Gas
by Dorianne Laux -For Richard Before the days of self service, When you never had to pump your own gas, I was the one who did it for you, the girl who […]
Arrival
by Ann LaBar When I arrive, my father will ask, “They pay you for that?” And I will answer no. Payment For poetry is rarely legal tender. It is broken barrettes, non-pareils […]
Mountains and DNA
By Julia Connolly Driving up the crumbling mountain road I’m bombarded by metaphors, snuck up on by similes. As we near the site of the wedding I’m silently singing the words to […]
Parents Without Partners Toga Dance, Circa 1970’s
by Patricia Fargnoli Stardust hung over the American Legion Hall as we headed from our car to the door, sheathed in sheets, mid-life, pocketbooks swinging. Something better happen, Maureen said. As we […]
Anonymity and Misogyny Online, and How It’s Pushing Us Out
by Andrea Wobel “What I once thought of as opportunity is silencing me. Is it now that only those women willing to combat misogynist, pro-rape comments will have a place online? And […]
Walking Alone in Late Winter
by Jane Kenyon How long the winter has lasted—like a Mahler symphony, or an hour in the dentist’s chair. In the fields the grasses are matted and gray, making me think of June, […]
The Gloria Sirens 