The Rooster and the Little Red Wagon
One day the rooster said to the little red wagon, “Little red wagon, I’ve sung my song. Won’t you give a me a ride around the farm?” “No,” the little red wagon said. read more
Recent Posts
The Worthy and Wealthy Men of Color
The worthy and wealthy men of color / stood on Golconda, gangplank, Savannah, / the blind Pharoah, thrown overboard, sorrow. read more
Mystery, Menace, and Early Sorrow
The dolls never slept. They stayed wide eyed and unblinking on their shelf in my small, overheated room, watching me watch the man and woman in the apartment across the way. As a child with insomnia, I was wide eyed, too, although I would have preferred sleep....
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Announcing Our New Associate Poetry Editor/Book Review Editor
GMR welcomes our newest staff member, Anita Olivia Koester. read more
Echo
This river it isn’t / a river your mirror read more
Review of STANDOFF by David Tomas Martinez
Standoff by David Rivard Graywolf. 2016. David Rivard’s sixth collection of poetry, Standoff, released in 2016 by Graywolf Press totes an impressive number of glowing reviews and a heavy list of humble brag worthy laurels. Most recently it won the PEN/New England...
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Cold Snap
Orn returned from work to an untidy house. Half-eaten bowls of cereal strewn on the counter, newspapers with coffee rings and mashed scrambled eggs melding with wet ink. The sticky floors popped with each step. Her annoyance grew, but who was there to blame? read more
Review of NOT A PLACE ON ANY MAP by Alexis Paige
Organized as a series of forty flash essays anchored by their geographic location, Not a Place on Any Map by Brevity editor Alexis Paige charts a life that stutters and snags on trauma and addiction, a life where entropy looms and the “myth which insisted that matter falling apart was not moving toward something larger, like islands or stars.” read more
Bruce, on Ice
Phoebe swears that the slick roads and misty skies, and the fatness of the roses in our front yard are all signs that point to Bruce. When we hear “Bruce” called out at a restaurant, or see the name in the newspapers, or watch a movie with a character named Bruce, she grabs my arm and says, “See?” read more
Two Poems
The NYT today says Haiti’s Baby Doc / Duvalier is dead. So that’s that— / another brutal dictator escapes without / paying his tab. It’s almost dusk / as a cloud a little darker than the others / leans down to kiss the grey sea. read more
A Protective Impulse
We want to believe that there is nothing natural about numbers. These ciphers are our perfect projections, whom we marshal and archive, in endless right angles. Though they have pores and spines, the tables we fashion for them are not carcasses or skeletons, not birds shorn of feathers and skin. read more