By: Robert Levine An interesting but often overlooked subspecies of narrative verse is biographical poetry, relating the life story of a real person; a well-read friend of mine told me he didn’t know such poetry existed. Robert Penn Warren pioneered…
By: Alan Swyer Hopeful that he was finally rejoining the living after losing first his job, then his girlfriend, Matt Kanter was prepping for two interviews – one via Skype, the other in person – when his iPhone rang. Though…
By Raymond Greiner I’m reading a masterful piece of writing titled Sapiens written by a career anthropologist Yuval Noah Harari, a brief history of humankind describing how we, as a species, have evolved from an astonishing series of events. The…
By: Daniel de Culla I woke up from a deep sleep And I came to the fields Leaving the bedroom And, as sorcerer and wizard I rose up to a leafy tree For watching sunrise. With great silence, softly The…
By: Tommy Vollman It wasn’t the sleepwalking that bothered me. I woke up outside more often than I care to remember, but still, the sleepwalking never really bothered me. I was terrified, though, of the tracers. The tracers scared the…
By: Keith Moul The Cratered Road to Malancourt: Doughboys Face the Meuse-Argonne Our general plows the muddy clay, then coughs: “Gentlemen, I approve the corps, division and regimental battle plans, without amendment.” Craters before Malancourt lie equaled beyond, a formation…
By: Pam Munter As soon as she entered any room, Ethel Barrymore left little doubt she was royalty, or at least, its show business equivalent. That square jaw, the penetrating eyes, the erect carriage majestically leading the way. When she…
By: Suchoon Mo a man and a woman walk on the deserted beach side by side hand in hand they are going somwhere or nowhere his footprints are left behind him her footprints are following her ocean waves groan ocean…
By: Mark Kodama Johnny knew he had been here before – many times before. He could hear the Taliban fighters outside his mud hut, speaking Farsi. The leader – with a dark beard and eyes full of intense hate –…
By: Samuel Guest a walk spanning several blocks morning doves shuffling along front lawns as cardinals recite poetic verse in flocks of three to five the smell of burning firewood follows my stepfather and i around every bend before we…