Poetry

by Kevin T McEneaney When scent of lilacs lilt in Spring air, it’s time to retrieve pick-ax, spade, and hoe to plant various seeds, tubers, and bushes. Working in mellow drizzle of droplets one feels a deep, mysterious kinship with ...
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by Kevin T. McEneaney Thou shalt not permit dust bunnies larger than a basketball to accumulate in any room. Thou shalt not stuff the refrigerator with moldy mushrooms or rotten, brown vegetables that look like dead leaves. Thou shalt not ...
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by Bill Keller I skied these woods when snow was deep, learned about its slopes and shadows, the openings between the trees that were sketchpads for my double lines. Threading quickly down, then climbing; I was tireless until muscles ached ...
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by Kevin T McEneaney Just as physicists play with duration, light, and the vast concept of space itself, so do poets when they are most sober gazing into the heart of who we are with our warts, black holes, and ...
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by Kevin T. McEneaney “You can think of the entire environment jiggling, vibrating,”—Quantum physicist Louis Slocombe   That gradual tilt toward warmer weather with sunny daffodil days and birdsong symphony bursting from woodland landscape beside muted burble of rushing creek ...
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by Kevin T. McEneaney Welcome the leafhopper into your life, an insect with twenty thousand species dressed in varied, rainbow striping.   What would life be like if humans harbored twenty thousand species? Like us, they have two front eyes ...
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by Kevin T. McEneaney After a few versions a poet may take satisfaction in the work done while hoping the next poem will be better than the last when the writer will be a somewhat different person who has a ...
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by Kevin T. McEneaney   Folklore cliches are flying left and right in celebration of the famed Welshman who built more churches than any other evangelist in Christian history.   Yet he had a subversive agenda: he installed more bishops ...
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by Tonia Shoumatoff I sit in the sun like a snake emerging after the long winter still frozen inside, relearning how to move. From out of nowhere tears arise behind my eyes, an elegy for those who have died. crocus ...
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by Kevin T. McEneaney Tossing knotted log in the woodstove maw, I breathe small sigh of relief, knowing that April will soon caress crocus while buds of willow, apple, cherry, magnolia will burst to bloom, but I’m now caught between ...
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