Bless the Mistaken

How did this happen?
Did the poet really say she hates commas –
little waves,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
on a lake on a wind-free day or
stepping stones so even your foot
takes for granted a perfect landing
until your ankle turns a way
it was never meant to
and you must wait by the lake
to watch water rinse pebbles
into gems

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The Old Yard

Joseph L. Dahut is an MFA candidate in Poetry at New York University whose work has appeared in The Drake, Tail Magazine, and The Sand Canyon Review, among others. Joseph lives in Brooklyn as an educator, poet, and fly fishing guide. The Old Yard ply of birch bark peels into lattice of moon. between light […]

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Toast With Jam

Diane Puterbaugh lives in Jackson, TN where she practices meditation and trains for marathons. Diane has completed a chapbook titled 31 and is working on another, Contrails. She often enjoys black coffee, bird watching, and a certain brown dog. Toast With Jam Toast with jam is bread with berries. Browned bread with boiled berries is […]

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January

January Month of poems. Bark, rain-stripped and grey. Tears of amber sap, of cold, frost and snow days when even the birds retreat. Winter hedges us along, the red berries bright against the rust-brown, moss-covered, lichen-mottled shades of January. We must be careful what we think about these days. We’re at the age now when […]

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My Father’s Perspective

I am working on my MFA creative nonfiction thesis about food foraging. I asked my father to talk about my first experiences with wild food. One of my pleasures was taking Lauren out in the backpack, walking quite long distances, and she loved to ride in the backpack. I learned to stop and grab berries […]

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