Book Release: Anne Graue
Congratulations to GMR contributor Anne Graue whose new poetry Full and Plum-Colored Velvet was published in late 2020 by Woodsley Press.
The Social Distance Reading Series
Recent Posts
Teen Breakup
our wet hair smelled of river haunt with clung decay of leaves
The Blueberry Cafe
Sadie and Max are playing in the backyard when Sadie has a thought. “We should start a restaurant,” she says.
Four Poems
A lover’s sleeping body is a fallow field / leading to forest understory, saplings / and shrubberies too plentiful to count,
Teeth and Breadcrumbs: A Review of THE CLEARING by Allison Adair
The opening title poem of Allison Adair’s collection The Clearing transforms a recognizable fairy tale into a grim story of a man who may be a “prince or woodcutter or brother, now musty with beard,” all familiar tropes of the genre, and who collects teeth that the girl in the story has dropped instead of breadcrumbs.
Two Poems
the five quarts of my blood moving almost/four miles an hour means the nurse pushing/a morphine shot into my arm watches/my eyes not the needle seconds only
Devotion and Defiance: A Review of Leila Chatti’s DELUGE
In this stunning debut collection of poetry, Leila Chatti, a citizen of both the United States and Tunisia, brings together a variety of topics that, historically, have not oft been talked about—not in public and not in poems—and when they have arisen, they have often come bearing shame.
Two Poems
I walked last night/the dark circle/under my right eye/I carried/a blade
A Review of PARTURITION by Heather Treseler
Heather Treseler’s new chapbook Parturition, named after the technical term for childbirth, is punctuated with medical vocabulary. Anhedonia, the inability to feel pleasure. Caul, a baby born with a piece of amniotic sac on its head. Nullipara, a woman who has never given birth.
Girl Twirling
You orbit around a young star/In a rocket you travel to a pink planet/Fifty-seven light years from Earth
A Review of SUMMER SOLSTICE by Nina MacLaughlin
“What’s the start of summer for you, the signal that it’s here?” Nina MacLaughlin asks in her book-length essay Summer Solstice, published by Black Sparrow Press. And with that invitation the reader’s imagination is kindled, fueled by the flush of inquiries that follow: “Is it the last day of school? The lilacs or the day lilies? First sleep with the windows open?”