Blue Magic
(at Silver Lake, St. Anthony, Minnesota) If I stare long enough anything can look like home A...
The Social Virtues Series
Recent Posts
There are no more silkworms in the wild
Maybe I am being sensitive but when C is teaching our Sunday morning Black-Lesbians- Only-Group about silkworms, I become anxious. We are curling...
Love Below the Stairs
Daryl lifts the top of the velvet jewelry box with his free hand and carefully scans the pieces. “Oh! Gimmie here!”
unit_52
thank you for being a present uplifting presence. main, these doors open the other way, what kind of truck we in? fade to live action footage of a haggard face man sitting on the curb with his shoes and socks off, picking at dead skin between his toes.
![[I should know emergency]](https://i0.wp.com/greenmountainsreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/57e8d0404e52ac14ea898675c6203f78083edbed5059744f742b7f_640_pills.jpg?resize=640%2C426&ssl=1)
[I should know emergency]
I should know/emergency/Call your/new/feelings
The Social Distance Reading Series
The Social Distance Reading Series
Brought to you by The Vermont School and Green Mountains Review
We’re thrilled to host The Social Distance Reading Series, a collaboration between Green Mountains Review and The Vermont School poets. In the wake of book event cancellations due to COVID-19, this pop-up series is designed to offer poets a platform for launching new collections of poems. At this point, we are focusing on collections by poets whose book events have been cancelled between January through May 2020.
Stay tuned for a new reading each Wednesday and Sunday.
Thanks,
–Didi Jackson, Major Jackson, Kerrin McCadden, and Elizabeth Powell, series curators.
Two Poems
What is metaled, what is stretched taut enough?
What’s said –an albatross “happens”– back-lit by white and golden flurries of clouds.
Apostate
Through a shop window, I watch a man / strip a mannequin / down to her fiberglass shell.
A Review of Dana Roeser’s All Transparent Things Need Thundershirts
Dana Roeser’s All Transparent Things Need Thundershirts is a book of long, narrow poems that move lightly and deftly from one strand of experience to another, in the hope that such leaps will reveal a single underlying pattern of experience. This hope is fulfilled poem after poem, with the work never feeling overdetermined.
Listener
A balding man entering a tavern, nothing unusual, but a bump on top of his left ear caught my attention, reminding me of Forge. Could it have been my enigmatic classmate from decades ago?
A Simple Question
One cannot prepare for slaughter.
Last month, a cognition test for your son:
Does a rock float in water?
Internal Combustion
In the San Francisco
of my twenties, we were like trees
pressed against each other, larger
than what we longed for.