The Fall
These dark, autumn mornings, and yesterday’s indifferent rain, the calendar bothered by subsiding sun, and some made up bullshit – […]
Statement of the Times
Fear is an ugly book cover. Crack open the spine. Read past the first chapter. Decide if it’s fiction. Or
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Step
It’s why I didn’t squash the horsefly, merely walked back inside. It’s why I captured the rat, freed it
Ostrich
I’m afraid of ostriches. Not metaphorical ones (though head in the sand can be worse than a rotting pecan disguised
Wax Museum, Harpers Ferry
By the John Brown museum, vulture bothering something long dead. “Where would your loyalty lie?” reads the placard. I recall,
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Sallie
Through the back window, I saw the first yellow leaf of fall, as I gathered your fur that’s been collecting
Cut
How blunt the scissors used too often. Want to stay sharp? Use only when needed. Refrain from grinding edges, trying
Date
When wheat and tomato meet for an early dinner, cheese invites itself, parsley and basil tagging along. Go ahead. Hold
Sheaf
Are you starving yet? Has your stomach turned blue and black, inside out with hunger? Have you bruised your back
Grounded
How unhappy the worm, eyeing a bird, knowing it cannot fly – unless… Unless. #KatherinesCoffeehouse
The Summer of Our Content
Now was the summer of our content, made possible by the sun, and here we lay, and here we slept,
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Concert
In the 80’s, there, in row 103, me, lighter raised, like everyone else in praise of music. But mine –
I read the news today, oh boy
I cannot handle my country handling guns, aiming into the eyes of children, my neighbors, yours, ours. Where is god?
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Train
By Katherine Gotthardt Maybe you’re supposed to detach from life’s thick ooze in order to recover. Is that what I’m
Now Accepting Locations for Poetry Installation
Hi readers! In conjunction with Write by the Rails, I am doing an area-wide poetry installation. The goal is to
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Gossip Column
AC went out, like my neighbor who everyone says “gets around.” The guys say she’s hot. The women, well, they
Backyard
The world is carnivorous – poets not so much. We are grass on a suburban lawn, planted like a good
Tortuga
Because the matted hay blocked his wrinkled gaze, and because I am who I am, I felt the call to
Cloud Cover
Yesterday’s sunset, clouds so close to street, settling into early bedtime, red plugged into the sky, like a shorted nightlight
Promise
When day looms long, heart too small to hold it, Earth, too, pensively looking at the stars, I find it
Conductor
This train wreck? Look closely. A hand reaches from the rubble. Take the trouble to reach back. Be the conductor.