My Cousin Rudy Explains the Spud Tree For Eugene “Spud” Troutman, 1946-1961 The big beech leans toward the stream, its smooth gray girth...

When did I last sit dappled in a tree? I look and want to say, child, Remember now these moments as you climb high and free (Whisper:...

The Alphabet of Hollywood Formulae Altitude. Frantic rooftop chases culminate in close-ups, a trailing heel just making the...

The "numbers" at the head of each poem refer to the numbering system in Kenneth Rexroth's 100 Poems from the Chinese. If interested,...

Passively Aggressive 3rd Degree Burns at Breakup Time She might have been stroking She might have been stroking her forearm like a cat ...

If you hope to see a deer in wet, leafless woods, do not look for deer within the woods. Gaze at the brown and grey expanse filled with...

Oak Bench Seat and back each a single 2” thick board, curved armrests at ends and mid-bench, Enfield, NH, c. 1830, 40″ at back, 33″ seat...

Nocturne No. 11 She went to the clinic before the Sun came up, making day, before the protesters came out with the Sun, simple hunters, &...

After Han-Shan's Poem #3 Lovely, the road to Cold Mountain where there is no sign of traffic, where valleys blur and streams twist and...

steady chaos / setbacks / excuses / lies see / where it took us / oh vanished hope / we were downcast / being / such tired dust I close...

Twilight conceals the defects of our souls; evening is simmering in the kitchen like a pot of cherry varnish to mend crippled violins....

My Relationship To My Rabbit Mind I wake and try to follow the instructions. White dot, single syllable, mind a spot tucked in the gut,...

Phillip Bannowsky is a retired autoworker, international educator, human rights activist, and 2017 Delaware Division of the Arts...

“And would it have been worth it, after all…” - Eliot You wake in the middle of the cold night, not with a start, like when you were a...

before counted time there was death where dreams cease like a broken branch nevermore to leaf the moon and stars care not the sun passes...

The Man Not Right              to the memory of Azel G. Manning, 1878-1952 For several decades The sun seemed dark for sorrow, his...

Foreign Cities, 1 Outside Vera, groves of olive trees dot a landscape dusty and otherwise barren. The bus that takes you into the heart...

The Answering Ice For Michael Castro (1945-2018) December he answers the phone. He hears blackbirds meandering their sentences across...

Cardinals The winter god’s thumb smudges blood stains into the skeletal trees, gives them wings and the gift of sound and we call them...

OPENS MAY 15, 2020! Submission Guidelines The eighteenth annual Dogfish Head Poetry Prize for the winning book-length manuscript by a...