Category / Current


Hidden from all mothers’ eyes by blinded windows glowing, I chase two neighbor sisters up slides and platforms, my boy heart surely rising as we round a silver maple, past the open gate, the scooter I’d cast off—my sister’s purple

Block Party

Start Me Up! was what started it--Monica Litzkus from up the street got tight that afternoon so she put on Tattoo You cranked to the Max & anybody coming over to complain got handed a beer & invited to dance


Quetzal: you write the word on a sheet of paper then erase it; each word, a talisman, leaves a track: a magpie struts across a portal and vanishes from sight; when you bite into sea urchin, ocean currents burst in

Two Poems

ONLY BEES BUZZ IN THE MEADOW                         —for Harryette Mullen   Speech a tremble, “Why not stop?” “Why not tremble?” Blessings from the other birds. Bread again. “What is as sweet?” Every grain of word is wheat. “Why not stop?”

Two Poems

Music Class Kids learned to play recorder in fourth grade, but I arrived late that year, and Mr. Bradley, fatigued and harried, taught me to fake it: how to inflate my cheeks and make fingers navigate in the Baroque way

Just So You Know

I figured it out after you ate the palm sized sugary plump plums, after you left the twelve line letter on the granite kitchen counter, unsigned, that did not explain why you ate the plums but not the leftovers I

Two Poems

Tattoos (for E)   They come with stories. Like the woman whose thorny twist around her shin did not bear roses, but eyes. Her children’s eyes, lashed almonds of colour, peeping from the leaves.   My tattoo for you would


Hank Lazer (Professor Emeritus and Associate Provost Emeritus) has published twenty-three books of poetry, including Poems Hidden in Plain View (2016, in English and in French), Brush Mind: At Hand (GreencupBooks, 2016), N24 (Little Red Leaves / Textile Series, 2014),


—Eze. 12:12   Reaching from history, that alpenglow, towards the dead whose clothes I wear tracked from room to room, the prodigy house we’ve built from the ambient low-fi hum—You pass your tongue through it. But what are you, the

Perfect Air

From The Course   Put book down As if Spine up You think Look out, window See what Shave hours Where’s that What’s was Where the fuck You say Is Carmen Phone rings That’s then There the fuck’s Say Hello


A gunshot: the trigger so light he’d hardly known he pulled it; another man’s pistol grabbed from an antique table with clawed feet that he had bought last week—   before the fight and her departure— bought driving to Memphis,


I never remember to ask what it is you are mowing in your fields? Is it hay? But if it was you’d say haying as I say watering–that and carting away the dead branches. For years we just piled the


                                  for my best friend, my protector, my mom   There is a world where all of a son’s battles are fought by his

Two Poems

Jukkasjärvi, Sweden   “It flew like a little bird its bright border gleaming”   From “Mourning Cloak”—Göran Sonnevi       In Jonas’s story, the old woman comes out the door of the abandoned house to throw her pail of

Two Poems

This Dog   Maybe I’ve chosen life—not just the life of this dog I’ve rescued from the shelter, but my own life, mired in the same books—Anna, Elizabeth, Jane, the same solitary walks– no tugging– the doctors’ offices changed now