The Social Virtues Series

tilt shift photography of green fruit
GMR
 

Recent Posts

Badminton with Annie Dillard

Badminton with Annie Dillard

sneakers with jagged blue diagonals. I am her dazzled student whom she has agreed to volley. We are not keeping score. Every other shot she makes is a soaring lob. Her flashy underhands shuttle the cock just shy of the gym ceiling’s high beams.

Green Mountains Review, based at Northern Vermont University, is an annual, award-winning literary magazine publishing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, literary essays, interviews, and book reviews by both well-known writers and promising newcomers.

2 + 7 =

Four Poems

Four Poems

tight embrace as if you’d break on letting go. I saw the sky for what it was: immaculate field, burial ground. A voice cried out from across the lake: “Abelard! Heloise!”—your uncle Fulbert calling us to return “right now!” A thousand minnows circled our legs like shiny badges. I couldn’t speak as I gazed at you too deep in bliss to utter a word, too damn ecstatic. We swam ashore and dressed in vain. 

read more
Thea Matthews

Thea Matthews

She Says We’re dreams  walking in the world on the land  of red skin red blood on the land of a civil war She says  we will walk  on rifles for freedom  on missiles for food on the hymns of spirituals humming the cries  of our children  ...

read more
Interview of Kristine Snodgrass

Interview of Kristine Snodgrass

I first became aware of Kristine Snodgrass’s art through WAAVe (Women Asemic Artists & Visual Poets,) a project for which she is founder and curator. Asemic art/writing is a developing art/writing form which utilizes the gesture of writing (without established...

read more
Notes of a Masked Son

Notes of a Masked Son

I THE IDEA FOR MY TEN-MINUTE SESSION COMES TO ME SOON AFTER I RESPOND to Candace Hunter’s call for participants. She asks friends—fellow artists, collectors, and other supporters—to sit across from her in silence on her house’s front lawn on a Sunday afternoon, the...

read more
Two Poems

Two Poems

Every train I’ve ever run for has left me & still, I find myself gripping my straps & pounding pavement, waving down whoever’s evening blurs behind the power lines & purpling clouds. I do not wish loneliness of any kind  upon anybody, but I’d take...

read more

Want to Submit Your Work?