A spring morning much like others, some daffodils rain-beaten, some perked. Daphne’s lemony fragrance when near enough. The outdoor little library bookcase at the neighbor’s frames the same mythologies, travel guides, and who-dun-its that got us through winter’s downpours. At the abandoned school, morning changes. A man rakes the baseball diamond, listening on earphones that […]Read more "Kindling"
An Uncommon Prayer for the Farm after Brian Doyle This morning three cracked and cleaned-out ducks eggs rested in mud. The ducks ignore the coop they share with broody hens. A raccoon slinked through the night, egg eater who slipped under the guard dog’s radar. First petition: safety. Yellow jackets nest in the propane tank […]Read more "An Uncommon Prayer for the Farm"
You did not eat dirt today. Perhaps tomorrow. Victory is one thin nacre coat on one grain of effort. Remember the mare’s beauty. She sweat more than you did. Look ahead to kittens and dogs and the feasts of wild crows. These too know dirt that you will eat. All living taste dusty race tracks […]Read more "Poem to Myself After Winning the Horse Race at Age Eleven"
Frost pastes a mosaic of downed old leaves rimmed in rime. Like teacup dregs and tarot cards splayed on sugared tables, readings of left behinds, these patchworks pinch in icy grout. Leafy feathers fly, wings wish, ash fires and golden glooms to muted stars and folded moons, fans of ginko grace, sweet-gummed prickles, silver bristles […]Read more "Winter Mosaic"
We are pleased to bring you our first-ever array of nominations for the Pushcart Prize! Thank you for being so supportive of our up-start experimental literary journal. We’ve had an incredible first 6 months and you can bet we’re excited to see what the coming year will bring. Please read on to learn more about […]Read more "Our First-Ever Pushcart Prize Nominations"
Yes, I locked up Guilt in the north barn stall. Yes, I nailed a 2×4 across the latch and tacked up rusty barbed wire. Understand me. She arrived scratched and naked, claiming she’d been raped, her money gone on drugs. She claimed she had no one but me. She prefers going almost bare-assed. I can’t […]Read more "Yes, I’m Cissy Bales"
There are days I drag through, head down through the deaths of my red dogs, the oxymoron of religious war, lists of going-extinct songbirds, and the sonic bombardment of whales in war games. These gumbo muds stick in my stout boots, tar-goo I cannot shuck off with knives of steel or wipe clean with rags […]Read more "For Better or Worse"
When men go on the stump, they should be explicit. Which woman card? The tarot’s lover card offers coupled male and female; maybe card art will catch up to truth. No doubt the politician means women who stand out. The Empress captures world strength in her scepter, Strength nurtures calm to tame a beasty lion. […]Read more "The Woman Card"
Tricia Knoll is an Oregon poet whose work appears widely in journals and anthologies. Her poetry collections include her full-length book Ocean’s Laughter (Aldrich Press, 2016) and her chapbook Urban Wild (Finishing Line Press, 2014). This poem appeared first on Visual Verse. Common advice – walk in his shoes. rub where his socks wrinkle, soles […]Read more "Compassion"
Tricia Knoll is a Portand poet, retired from many years of communication work for the City of Portland. She has degrees in literature from Stanford University (BA) and Yale University (MAT). Her poetry and haiku appear in numerous journals and several anthologies. Her chapbook Urban Wild looks at human and wildlife interactions, mostly within the Portland city limits. Her […]Read more "The Women’s Procession at the Christmas Eve Candlelight Service"