The Dying Farmer

The Dying Farmer

Act I Put me where I am usefuljust beneath the topsoilhalf-inch down of warmthand wet loam in my handspitch me a shovel or rakelet me get up when the sunsplits land from sky and blazes There’s work to be done   Act II Tell me to rest when darkness fallsthough I keep...
Heading West on Hwy 54

Heading West on Hwy 54

My horoscope saidToday is a ten. You’re driving; I’m ridingIn a Cadillac convertibleThrough the pouring rain,Soaked to the skin, and more. Lightening stitches through clouds,Flashing like a mirror ball.We got Benny Goodman on the radioUntil the station hissesAnd fades...
Palominos Near Tuba City, by Denise Sweet

Palominos Near Tuba City, by Denise Sweet

Readers familiar with Anishinaabe poet Denise Sweet’s work must be well aware of how engaged and perceptive she is as an interpreter of what’s going on in the world, how things happen, and why they matter. A professor emerita of Humanistic Studies, Creative Writing,...
The Act

The Act

There was a boy who was not yet a man who spent a summer graftingbuds onto peach branches. It was hot; it was the bay shore ofMaryland and 1974. He carried a small knife and used it with hishands, used it to open with his hands. With each slit on the already-tree he...