Photograph of My Grandparents
By Korissa Howes ● 2014
Made in black and white Frayed upon the edges Free of wrinkles despite That they were not then My father’s parents Looked so in love...
Art by Bob Muschewske
True Myth
By Heid E. Erdrich ● 2014
Tell a child she is composed of parts (her Ojibway quarters, her German half-heart) she’ll find the existence of harpies easy to swallow. Storybook children never come close to her mix, but manticores make great uncles...
Empty Promise
2014
The world is filled with empty promises. It’s like when you tell a person you love them, and they say it back, but after that y’all never speak again...
In Praise of Aging
2014
In praise of buses rattling through the streets In praise of passengers jostling for a seat In praise of a transfer I didn’t need to buy In praise of snow falling from the sky, and my down coat Bought secondhand but warm...
Hands
2013
Cops know that hands can kill us always, watch the hands hands comfort, carry, bring safety they hold, caress, and lift us...
Night Class
By Nicholas Voss ● 2013
It was an after school program for kids. I was ready like a manatee is ready for ping pong. Just a little clumsy after being tucked away in a collegiate cave while this city extols Saints just down the street. . . . I’ve still got a lot to learn. Like how those science quizzes didn’t apply in the van ride. . . . Where passing is keeping everyone buckled for just 3 more blocks.
A Strange Man Named Hicks
2013
There once was a strange man named Hicks Who yearned to create limericks...
I Remember RONDO
By Moleen (Harris-Davis) Lowe ● 2013
I remember Rondo . . . the streets were cobbled stone. I remember Rondo . . . 450 was our home. I remember Rondo—the intersection Arundel Hill, On one corner the cab station; across the street, Joe’s Grocery Store . . . I remember Rondo, and we never locked our door. I remember Rondo—smiling faces still in my mind
Esoteric
2013
She stands with bare feet On a marble bathroom floor The temperature outside has not yet Reached up to the predicted low for today These days she keeps mostly to herself No one else can bear it...
Poetry in the Ramsey County Detention Center
2013
We come from separate compartments, they from carrels, I, from my usual routine, form a circle, except for the young man next to me who turns away.
Purgatory
By Sharon Chmielarz ● 2013
It is love and sensing the departed is present somewhere between being able to be reached or not. Neither alive nor dead. It is searching, hopefully, for him...