Should Hope kiss a toad is continuously a puzzle, as pop eyes abound and sewn gapes of muzzle. Scrawny limbs may grow lithe or may remain scrawny. Distended pots may never tighten smooth and bonny. Hope scratches her various tight curls and looks serious. What if no dance emerges from these throttled leaps? What if […]
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A brief article and photograph by Kevin Arnold Ray’s marriages were provocative. One of my poet friends, Deidre Farrington Schoolcraft, can become piqued at Raymond Carver because, even after his first wife Maryann’s continual sacrifices for him, Ray divorced her and, by marriage, bestowed the rights to Ray’s work to Tess. Deidre wrote a poem
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I’ll tell you all a dire and grisly tale Of one who strayed so far beyond the pale, Annihilated in an ocean swell, Dragging down many with him as he fell – Poor Billy: he’s the hero in my charge , And represents humanity at large, The product of a world grown over-ripe, Walking computer,
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If you’re all alone on Thanksgiving Day, with no turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy, your heart aching from loneliness and neglect, and your shame keeping you from making even one single phone call to some relative who is surrounded by devoted loved ones, just keep in mind that, for what it’s worth, we’re together
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Emotional truth should never get a free pass. All too often, it’s a noisy intruder lashing out in blind frustration. It devotes endless hours to reconstructing bones in the desert in a vain attempt to reanimate an imaginary creature. When it thinks you’re a captive audience, it will usher you into its hail-damaged garden, assuring
I dreamt last night green arms of grass rose-up and overtook the city. They call this wilderness sprawl. I dreamt last night animals of all kinds two by two stole into the cities and marched the humans back to secret dens to rehabilitate them in the ways of Earth. They call this humanitarian aid. I
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