“On the morning of Saturday, June 15, 2013, my brother Sam sent me a link to an AP wire service story. The headline said, “Rangers Rescue Hiker Hit by Fallen Tree in Smokies,” and the hiker was identified as “Nathan Lipsom.” They’d misspelled our last name, but it was close enough that . . .
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“As I write this, my daughter Moriah is running in a circle behind me. She is five. We are in our basement, which is where I go when I want to be alone and get to work. Moriah is running because she wants our cat to chase her. The cat is not . . .
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“What they said was, where there is contactthings rapidly change: circular reshuffling of hot rises,cold sinks. On a sea, we would call it weather.Here, before the drop & itself rush intoeach other, it pressures aloft, a straining escapefrom itself, a moment at peace” —From “Drop Coalescence ” Summer 2019 (Vol. 60, Issue 2) . . .
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“your feet knowing sand at their arches: the heave the give and grit the quietwaves of a chalky blue lake the heavy slidedown a small pebble bankslide like but stopthis world is not a metaphor for you in me”—From “Lake Michigan,” Summer 2019 (Vol. 60, Issue 2) Tell us about one of the . . .
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“Stars crept through bedroom windows to feed the dark.Everybody became a friend that died.Blitzed desire tiptoed in from all directions.Wintered, feverish roses bloomed on yellowed sheets.Not me, thinking back as far as I could– who did I touch? How many sheets spilled over my bed…” —From “Better Angels II,” Summer 2019 (Vol. 60, . . .
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“But I do wishwe had found the courage to usethose purpled hours and put themto work: defy decorum and undress.peel off,disrobe, strip down to the verybones if necessary.” —From “On the Overnight Train” Summer 2019 (Vol. 60, Issue 2) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.I wrote poems in college. . . .
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The Massachusetts Review presents the latest Working Titles e-book: NIGHT HANDS a story by Jen Cross, with an introduction by Elizabeth Harries- available this week! “As the first rays of sun pierced the night in the surrounding wood, Old Mother Ganz raised the double-headed axe. “Now, my daughter,” said the old witch, “we will give . . .
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A review of Spectra: Poems by Ashley Toliver (Coffee House Press, 2019) “Kinesis,” the first poem in Ashley Toliver’s powerful first book Spectra, frames the collection’s primary strength: that of movement through trauma and the emotionally dark places in the female self, where one can be “plumbing / a violent kinesis. “This . . .
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I found a small white tangerine.It’s in my head, squeezedBetween what I perceive and whatI call things. —From “Every Thought Is Citric” Summer 2019 (Vol. 60, Issue 2) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.The poem that comes to mind is G.R.I.D (gay-related immune deficiency). In the first years of the epidemic, this . . .
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Danilo De Marco is a photographer who still works with film, in black and white, and then goes into the darkroom to develop and print, under the glow of a red light bulb. He says digitalization erases the texture of his images. One of his recent exhibitions in Udine displayed a collection . . .
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