All day I watch boats from the living room window. I do other things, of course, but I always come back to the boats—yachts, skiffs, catamarans. Occasionally, there’s even a dinghy, white or blue, with a small figure aboard, paddling madly.
I used to think there could be nothing lonelier than boating, but these days, I have reconsidered.
When I get to my father’s house, he’s outside pushing a tripod orchard ladder across the lawn. No surprise he checked himself out of the hospital and has already started working. It’s been six months since I’ve been home, and he looks thin, even under his...
Snow in the parking lot of the factory
unfair to its workers. Snow in the parking lot
of the school where the children were shot.
The editors are pleased to announce the finalists for the first annual GMR Book Prize.
Prize judges, Sarah Manguso and Olena Kalytiak Davis.
Winners will be announced soon.
From the branches I catch the flicking
of an eastern kingbird, it’s raspy call
On this morning Casey’s family sat in the same place where they always sat in the Addison Methodist Church, a little more than halfway back on the right side, first Aunt Ada, then Casey’s little sister, then his mother, then himself, then his father.
Green Mountains Review is seeking submissions from Latina/o, Lusa/o, and Indigenous poets, writers, artists, photographers of the Americas who have been moved, motivated, and otherwise inspired by the works and influences of the first Latino Poet Laureate of the United States (PLOTUS)
Blurbs of Lincoln Michel’s Upright Beasts include the words “haunting” and “sinister.” His stories indeed have dark underpinnings, yet I finished this collection feeling more comforted than disturbed.
My family talked big game about summers on the Vineyard and the rest, but it was all too insistent, and you’d see right through. Dad said our wealth “disintegrated.” That was his word.