Stone by stone,we drag and stack,the fallen limbs of yesterdaysnap against restless winds of today. Sturdy knees bend,shadows sway deep blue —our bearbag hangs, makinga moon of its own. Stone by stone,we sit, heavy-hipped,hair pulled awayfrom the damp of our necks. On a Narniac throne of sheetrock,we watch the sun foldbehind the Allegheny River —whereContinue reading “Stone by Stone”
Tag Archives: Poem
The Blessing of the Hounds
After the hunt, herringbone hungnext to the blood—hounding that fox until cornered. The blessing must first be received.We bow our heads and cross our knees. Resurrecting in the distance,fog haunts like a painting. Pressed to breast, chin to pin—discreetly, she fumblestoward studded Victorian,ready to receive.
Ever Ever Everett and the Slightly Bearded Man’s Enlightenment
His words, despite his own struggle to dress himself in them, were words of wisdom. Words compelling any adolescent (such as I was) to lift their ear in the same manner one might find the sun raising the flower’s. They were words wrapped in simplicity, disguised only for the heart of a wise man- aContinue reading “Ever Ever Everett and the Slightly Bearded Man’s Enlightenment”
The Nest We Built
Through seasons in pairs, they come and go and come again, returning to spring with predictable stubbornness. Digging claws into roots. Perching. Planting. Pecking. Sucking. Buzzing in the new season when bright green stems grow in the old field to remind us how busy the birds and bees have been.Summer comes with its fiddleheads andContinue reading “The Nest We Built”
Pine Jumps
We built a trail, on a thin path covered in dry sappy pine needles. Then, tied rope around the end of each handlebar, and rode our way through wooded red dust lanes. Metal horses neigh with every jump, as rubber tires hit parchedpinecones. Shattering at every heaving heavy, deep-breathing. Push! Chains pop, toes point, thighsContinue reading “Pine Jumps”
Broken Wings
Wilting like a single stem out of water baby sister meticulously fawns his beardless chin tucks into cigarette-stained wingswith cocaine nails he plucks at wires across black wooded hollowcrow’s feet stamp the corner of each eye brass strings drag at the tipfrom the ground up his voice rings “Blackbird singing in the dead of night” pausepresspluck pausepullpeck “TakeContinue reading “Broken Wings”
metastasis
Rachel M. Croce puberty– the transformative awkwardness of self-annihilation loose skin bursts, pimples posture always with embarrassmentvoices arch toward otherworldlinesstones crack open, the evolutionthis is the summer of nipple buds and curiositylingering infidelity braves tolerance expanding thighs and breaking hearts– that hidden corner of the woods where adolescence weeds itself through incomprehensibilitythis isn’t teamwork,this is a kindContinue reading “metastasis”
Tiny Boats
Down turbid rushing stream, tiny boats float where english ivy climb from the bottom of a hill. I look up toward nature’s wall, grounded in fevered moss. Rocks reveal themselves as water pulls in rhythmic motion, and drops like a blanket falling off. My brain’s illusion tells me I see a bird soaring. Are youContinue reading “Tiny Boats”
White Noise
The quieter I try,The louder sound I make White lace pressed dimplesCreak of old-fashioned lightLike a piano string dragged between fingersCarpeted navy blue brineHe stumbles Through absence of wife and sunlight
Dancing Bees
Winslow Road was where the white house stoodswelled and quiet once until bare toes tap on wooden beamsankle snaps loose splintered feet Where pine crumbs drop across the creek, leaves drape quietly as secrets keep Toward iron hasp, I bend an earbut all I hearis the tickle of bees dancing in my stomach Behind severalContinue reading “Dancing Bees”
The Word Mill 