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Bloom: A new poetry collection by Simmons B. Buntin
Simmons B. Buntin’s second collection of poetry, Bloom, was recently released by Salmon Poetry. The book immediately brought me back to my introduction to Buntin’s work. We published his poem, “Desert...
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Haiku for Robert Johnson
said you sold yourself to satan at the crossroads under watchful moon but the deep moan of a man’s faithful guitar is nothing sinister howling like the earth broken mississippi dirt flawless pluck...
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The Pious Don’t Use Aspirin
He tells me that he thinks God is in his head and I say, like made up you mean? But no, he means physically; growing outward, pulsing filled with light and stars and waves. It’s a rushing kind, a...
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Recalling the Eisenhower Years, which Some Now Term “Containment Culture”
There were tits on Lawrence Welk. Not often, it’s true, but I think I remember Hula dancers once and those layers of leis Swaying gently, and once upon a time the Lennon Sisters probably wore push up...
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Fool Enough to Listen
You can expect the news to arrive by mail on a day when you anticipate nothing more than an overdue check in payment for the resume you completed a good two years back. Don’t look to the sky...
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CANEY DENCOTTLE
If you can’t learn from history—save yourself a few years, circle back, and burn your own barn. –A Proverb from the Storms– I catch the winter swan-jazzed downstream with its swanky snow...
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Letter to My Son Concerning the Peculiarities of Faith
Just skinny girls and boys but they hold anyway green-streaked fingers to the sky, as if even now— the tear gas coming down, sad-eyed men owned by some other man shouting orders, wrecking...
View ArticleReturning to Earth
And she walks slowly across the deep grass. Back to earth she goes. The stems part before her legs and then gather again with a bow after her body. In furrows the soil curves. Under her feet stones...
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The Proper Way to Husk a Coconut
Removal of the gold wedding band That’s the first step Securing it in a shirt pocket – Button closed. Hold the shell high Then slam it down on a steel pick Peeling away the green halves Cracked along...
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Four Poems by Darren Demaree
THE CURDLE OF FOAM ALWAYS SUBMITS Worth more with fermentation & lit blue below the shuffling feet, the garden of useless particles creeps the party like a storm without lightning, clinging to the...
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