New World Writing Quarterly

I’ve just about had all I’m going to take from this place. In the morn­ings it’s fog­gy, the clouds come in at night, low, cov­er every­thing with dew and wet­ness. And then by the time the sun comes up it’s already hot, humid­i­ty bring­ing sweat to my fore­head. –more

We parked our­selves on 26 acres in the woods on a lit­tle old moun­tain north of Myersville, MD in mid-March and only leave when absolute­ly nec­es­sary. Not much is nec­es­sary. Here we have assort­ed bod­i­ly vis­i­tors, plus Doug, who steals food from the birds, –more

In the entry­way, Debbie says, I have some­thing new to show you.

I fig­ure it’s a 75” flat screen or a shiny car in the garage. Then she tells me it’s in her room. And I know she means a new way we can fuck. Then I hear her mom call out from the –more

The Scourge and the Kiss

Dear Gov. Rick Snyder,

At age 74, I expect­ed my body to
change. To wilt. To fade. But I’m
a frail saltine spread with peanut
but­ter just for good humor. I expect
to fol­low road maps and rivers
greater and longer than –more

Outside my win­dow today it is rain­ing. Seven bum­ble­bees strug­gle against the drops. They strain to bear their own weight, emer­ald fronds of grass below ready to receive what pollen falls from their over­laden bod­ies, what hon­eyed –more

Triggers and Consequence

Even con­fuza­tion­al cur­tains drawn aside
manip­u­lat­ing the punch-up show stayed hidden
Fogged atmos­pheres, the con­coct­ed nar­ra­tives baf­fled audiences,
dis­tract­ed atten­tion, fooled under­stand­ing the maraud­ing scenes,
mutat­ing plots

In mul­ti­pli­ca­tions of –more

OFF THE PAGE

Finding a way
and life. Web

of soil, words
just nature’s

bird silent
body; petrel

fly­ing underwater.
From sink to river

we go quietly.

~

SOMEWHERE AND NOWHERE

Planning but settled,
and close – transit

rooms, rain windows,
num­ber­less rooms, making

too many sen­tences. I
start­ed –more

“Not just beau­ti­ful, though—the stars are like the trees in the for­est, alive
and breath­ing. And they’re watch­ing me.” Haruki Murakami

From a dis­tance, the first thing I noticed about Claudette and her hus­band Ezra is they both radi­at­ed a strange, –more

Nature, Nurture, Andersen, Freud

She’s not men­tioned in the tale—
the ugly duckling’s real,
as in bio­log­i­cal, mother.

Did she look the oth­er way
when a thief crept in to lift
the pre­cious egg? Was she bribed

with suc­cu­lent pondweeds
to grant –more

The Heart Shows Signs

You’re out of sync, ditsy
in the daisies, where did you think
you were going? —bush­whacked and busy,

the I am, I am, I am of your life … that … steady
rhythm … start… bird star­tled stop …
against your rib … cage –more

ELENTIYA

Sarah Mellinger recent­ly fin­ished her first orches­tral piece, Elentiya, which is sched­uled to be pre­miered by the Cleveland Chamber Symphony this com­ing fall. She is cur­rent­ly work­ing on adding more move­ments to her piece, –more

My Father Playing Needle Nugent

I would have been one years old
and he would have been fifty
when he played Needle Nugent
in Juno and the Paycock for the
Dramatic Society of University
College London, the Foundation
Play of 1960 — dur­ing the sec­ond
–more

A soak­ing tub was need­ed. How long had it been the fluffy white tow­el remain­ing unwashed, six months? a cou­ple years? Remember the last rushed stor­age, think­ing, next time, it can wait. Finally the Viet place in Paisley Street was recalled. Op Shops –more

It is night, and the nation endured anoth­er day of Trump’s slaugh­ter of democ­ra­cy and his takeover of cities with storm troop­ers who are ter­ror­iz­ing pro-democ­ra­cy groups. As much as the guardians of White male his­to­ry try to hide it, state sanc­tioned –more

Jean was one of those women who believed in angels; wore crys­tals around her neck and cut her hair like Enya.

She was born in the south but bore no accent; lived her life in New England, cot­tages near coves and coastlines.

Two mar­riages, nei­ther of them –more

The first time Fred and Gina had sex, he showed her how to make fried rice with red and yel­low pep­pers in a real wok. Fred’s moth­er and sis­ter were on vaca­tion. It was rain­ing out­side, and Gina arrived in a taxi. The food, the rain, the jazz they –more

Pleasantville, New York

Day P             

Since the stay-at-home order we show­er most­ly in the evenings. After tonight’s show­er I put on cologne for the do of it. It’s gone ran­cid. Top notes of rust­ed sled –more

The Horse Fair, poems on the life and art of French ani­maliere Rosa Bonheur (1822–99). Part psy­cho-biog­ra­phy, part spec­u­la­tion and intu­ition, these linked dra­mat­ic mono­logues probe themes of gen­der, class, and artis­tic genius against the back­ground –more

Boxing in a Backyard Ring on a Summer Night

Beckett is younger, the far supe­ri­or fight­er with
every advan­tage in skill, tim­ing, and technique.
A brick­lay­er by trade, his gloved fists are stones,
and his hard, sol­id punch­es rock me –more

I’ve made friends with dust­pans, mops, brooms, buck­ets, box­es, sprayers ’n rags. Finer than the peo­ple upstairs, real­ly. You pass ’em by ’n pray they mind their busi­ness. If not, you got­ta be pre­pared to scrub some god-aban­doned grime, make-pre­tend –more