Explore

A Dark Place

There was no sense in brushing off or any other civilized thing.

A Farmer’s Life: Xiwuqi, Inner Mongolia

For my vacation last summer, I visited the Bateer family in Xiwuqi.

A Father’s Story

Certainly the ushers who pass the baskets know me as a miser.

A Place for Us

Our house sits alone out in the country, seven miles north of town.

A Pot of Red Lentils

I want to remember us this way—sun streaming through the window.

Addendum and Other Poems

The animals are dying. All the beautiful women are dying too.

Aeneas Leaves Kansas

All night the insects’ grinding jaws chewed through the darkness.

Africa

If he’d had that seat belt on, he would have been pinned inside.

Afternoon and After

The event was an accelerator. So much matter crashed, vaporized.

Afterword

Death is a lack, I suppose, and love more so. But I will not falter.

Algonquin’s Legendary Editor

The excuse, of course, was that men had to support families.

All-American Biography

Snows piling in his crying mouth. Cold gave him a light complexion.

Am I Supposed to Know the Difference between Fiction, Nonfiction, and Poetry? I Don’t.

Diane Seuss

Amanda Strayhorn, Reverend’s Wife

She countered the reverence of his efforts stroke by stroke, tit for tat.

America, I Do Not Call Your Name Without Hope

Lost land, this is a song for the scars on your back, for your blistered feet.

An English Christmas

There were more whispered speculations about his relative sobriety.

An Influx of Poets

I had the tongue of an adder and my heart was black with rage and hate.

Anemoia and Other Poems

I want to cut loose from her each wistful sigh I hear escape her lips.

At Age Ten I Escape from the Work Farm and Pursuant to Court Order, Am Recaptured in a Cincinnati Amusement Park

That’s why Mam drinks whiskey. That’s why he drinks whiskey too.

At Risk

He’s weirdly hard to pay attention to, even when he’s threatening you.

At the Edge of the Forest, Close to Home

Sleepy and pensive, July succumbed to the day’s isolating heat.

Autumn Landscape

I lift my wine flask, drunk with rivers and hills.

Badlands

We imagined the train routes through the heart of the country.

Betty of Lilyfield

A collection from San Franciscan photographers Eszter and David.

Bezhin Meadow

The sunrise does not blaze fiercely but spreads in a gentle flush.

Birds of a Lesser Paradise

I looked out at the busy world, and I saw nothing but its ugly bones.

Black Sand

All these barns with their busted spidery limbs strewn over the lupine.

Blerrie Fockin’ Beautiful

When his father was out cold he tied him up, roping his arms to his sides.

Blerrie Fockin’ Beautiful

The author reads her story, a finalist in the Winter 2013 Story Contest.

Blight

At first my dad was optimistic that he could be a one-armed farmer.