Crosscut
by Tim Lydon

  I am cutting firewood near my home in northwest Montana when my old chainsaw, plagued by various ailments, finally sputters and dies. In suddenly quiet woods, I inhale its last cough of hydrocarbons and... Read More...

Four Poems
by Jennifer K. Sweeney

 Click button above to play audio for this poem, or click here to download the poem in .mp3 format.Vigil              San Bernardino, CA, December 2, 2015  After the shooting,after the helicopters-for-days... Read More...

Four Poems
by James Grabill

   A Few Miles into the Century                 At what point did sleep-swimming wake?               Where does being present begin and end?               Haven’t North American nightcrawlers chosen to pa... Read More...