Chippewa County, WI

poetry
  Dark Lake isn’t bad—necessarily. Dark Lake is the mouth of a cave. A dark pupil in everyone’s eyes. The lost dog opens his soul. Dark spills out on the…

Lake Room

poetry
  Think of what the Water takes when it is stirred, or what blocks it grinds to paste no matter early edge or gloss. Yet were his body stone enough…

Still Life with Prophet

poetry
  When Daniel is dreaming don’t wake him. What he sees will escape time: feather and horn, hunger, what angels do when God points a finger: Pluck men from a…

Fifth Essay on Husbandry

poetry
  If it’s not the roof leaking, it’s the basement flooding, and if you’re lucky, if it’s raining hard enough, it’s both. Another mostly empty paint-can abandoned to the damp…

Something about the Recipe

poetry
  No one else could make it the same. Maybe the whipped milk cream was never fluffed to that cumulus, or maybe the ten pinches of sugar weren’t sifted to…

Pinning up the Dead

poetry
  Kuya said to coffin Goldie in an empty cigarette pack, or say some words and flush him down the drain, but his sleek belly was a wink in the…

Midsummer

poetry
  Five girls vow to gather here around this fire every year. Five girls giggle in the firelight. The wind flicks a switch of smoke first to one face, then…

Gleaner

poetry
  Fee, Fi, Fo, They chirp the dirge into her bones. Cold peppers, pressed against the lettuce. Okra, bean stalk, she is at it again. Keeps pert with work. Packs…

What the Lasso Does

poetry
  A cowboy spits dip into used bottles, the hounds unfed for days, dishes yawning, uranium seeping, and you name buzzards, read the backs of soup cans, T.V. guides,– it's…

Grandfather

poetry
  He remembers waking in the grey silence, stepping into patched trousers and cracked leather boots. The stables of memory still smell of sawdust and damp earth. The milk cows…

In a Rain Storm

poetry
  We believe we can extend a hand to those who suffer. The air is suffused with heavy rain. Taking in the afternoon, shifting gears. We try to grasp what…