Monthly Archives: May 2021

S is for Spriggs – Two Get-Me-Every-Time Poems by the American Poet Bianca Lynne Spriggs

What Women Are Made Of There are many kinds of open. — Audre Lorde We are all ventricle, spine, lung, larynx, and gut. Clavicle and nape, what lies forked in an open palm; we are follicle and temple. We are ankle, arch, sole. Pore and rib, pelvis and root and tongue. We are wishbone and gland […]

T is for Thesen (and Gallant) – The Wig-Maker – A Remarkable Collaboration – Truth-Telling, Poetry, Healing

from The Neighbour My dad was such a liar.       It was all about perception, I had to be a refined lady             I never carried myself like a slut, not even nail polish. I was perfect.       I fooled them all, to the point where I fooled myself.             I was fictitious. I wore […]

U is for Uppal – R.I.P. 1974-2018 – Gone Far too Soon!

  To A Future Reader I beg you, tell me the words I left ended up funny, gave you guffaws as the planet went all to hell in ways I was not sad enough to imagine. Ave Atque Vale Farewell Priscila Uppal from Ontological Necessities, Exile Editions, 2006 This kind of takes my breath away. […]

V is for Vasquez (Gilliland) – A Journey Home to Find Where Healing Lives: In “Tales from the House of Vasquez”

The Tale of Postpartum The doctor is ancient and I don’t think she can hear me when I say, my columna verterbral is on the outside now. She asks, do you like caring for the baby? I nod. Yes, I love caring for the baby. And then I whisper. But how long can a woman […]

W is for Wrigley – And His New Book of Essays Published by Tupelo Press: Nemerov’s Door

Machinery My father loved every kind of machinery, relished bearings, splines, windings, and cogs, loved the tolerances between moving parts and the parts that moved the parts, the many separate machines of machinery. Loved the punch, the awl, the ratchet, the pawl. In-feed and out-feed rollers of the thickness planer, its cutter head and cutters. […]

X is for Xie – Third in a Series Featuring a Reverse Alphabet of Poets Beginning at Z for Zwicky, Y for Yasmin

Melancholia The black dog approaches? I pry open the crooked jaw. Inside? A heady odor, elemental. And then? I spin through my life again. How so? Slow and fast, fast and slow. What follows? Time, the oil of it. What direction? Solitude throws me off the scent. And what lies ahead? Even the future recoils, […]