im 16 and i love strawberries and perfectly ripe peaches. i grew up in jersey and i love it there too. everything is legal in new jersey. im good at painting and bad at confrontation. i care too much …
The skull is packed in my attic. Perhaps I should warn my daughter, assuming she will be the one to sort my life once it’s done. It doesn’t smell anymore. It took a soaking in bleach and days of …
Cherry, Cherry, why do you weep? Is it due to your exquisite beauty, Produced without obligation or duty? Do you weep happy streams of rosy tears, Rejoicing in the spring season that nears? Cherry, …
Cecelia Shine will read from her works Saturday, May 4, at the annual Reading and Celebration in Tyler Hall on Bucks County Community College’s Newtown Campus. Hailing from Neshaminy High School, …
What did I want to do when I came back to write — to detail the drift — two wild hares a dead mouse, a tiny beautiful owl one of the hares chewed up and now this —a tortoise’s muddy back — …
The healing power of poetry will be featured in an “open mic” poetry reading from 6:30 to 8 p.m. Tuesday, April 30, at the Doylestown Library, celebrating National Poetry Month.
There’s a kind of love, maybe just compassion, that we feel for old peopleany old person. And when the we is the significant other of the old personit is love, it’s love added to the regular …
Wind chimes hang high in the branches Above a roughhewn house on a hill of cedar Suspended by a single golden hair A rooster crows in the distance I wake and the vision fades But still the dream …
It is said that before entering the sea a river trembles with fear.— Khalil GibranI relish days in solitudelanguishing in this estuarybefore being propelledinto the merciless oceanSwallow melike …
Even during the storm, tonight’s moonlight is generous enough to wend its way through the blinds, shifting patterns on my pillow. So here it is, this full moon in late March, on the cusp of spring, …
At the moment of his death, all the painthat had pulverized his body lifted, woven into a cape of worsted,roughly knotted wool, furled above me, alit, and stitched onto my body. I struggled to stand, …
Snow soft and pretty on a windy winter day, pure white and undisturbed, it beckons us to play. Pushed by plows, the cars fly by. Snow blackens from the dirt, soon becoming something else, something we call …
Thank god in the cold for supermarket flowers. Such extravagance — I bought three lush bunches of tulips, though I wanted so many more to mass in glass vases on every surface in the house, vivid oblong …
In my backyard, trees tower above me. I run my hands over their surfaces: oak cast in flaky shells, ash in diamond ridges. After yesterday’s rain storm —a musky scent, hoof marks in the ground. Soon, …
With all the garish honking, I expected to see “just married” signs and a tawdry string of tin cans dragging noisily from the tail feathers — Canada Geese dropping out of the blue into a small …
On Saturday, Feb. 24, at 6:30 p.m., the Frenchtown Bookshop will host poet José Olivarez to celebrate the paperback release of his poetry collection, “Promises of Gold” (Macmillan).
I lay with this man and no one else for forty years or more. I lay with this man and no one else I love him to his core. I lay with this man and no one else since I became his wife. I lay with this man and …
Last night I uncovered poemshid so well it took me fifteen years to find them,a ribbon tied around a packet of blue linenas if whoever bound those sonnetswanted whoever unwrapped themto appreciate …
The Stoutsburg Sourland African American Museum, central New Jersey’s first dedicated Black History Museum, will present “Meet Phillis Wheatley,” a live theatrical performance at the historic …
Swallows race to open-mouthed young in the cob-webbed rafters of the cedar boat house. The feeding frenzy takes a voyeuristic back seat as the birds watch lovers entwined on a park bench. Even birds …