eight years

eight years

not nearly enough to cleanse the stench, funk / grime and crime within the walls of an estate corrupt / not enough to baptize a new beginning or / dissolve evil embedded in historical detail

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The Social Virtues Series

tilt shift photography of green fruit
GMR
 

Recent Posts

Summer Land

Summer Land

EVER SINCE VERNON WAS A TEENAGER, HE WAS GOOD AT SLEEPING. SO GOOD in fact, that his mother was scared he’d never wake up when he went to bed. Vernon held the record for the longest sleep ever taken in his family. And there weren’t many records between him and his mom, although she was good at all sorts of things.

Three Poems

Three Poems

Blue Dress I've hung my light blue evening gown on the bedroom door so that at night, when I turn away from you to sleep, I still have something to...

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.

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Two Poems

Two Poems

Poetess Anoints Herself In wild audacity I wedded Word, obscured ragged frock made fit for my existence. I claimed branch broken weavings as my incendiary hair. Hovered over crumbling coast while my silken breath swung bare-breasted. The sea was nothing but spit in...

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Keeping an Eye Out for Cougars

Keeping an Eye Out for Cougars

Narrow was what they called my cousin who is now as exquisite as the Kenyan model pouting on the cover of French Vogue, but before we were of age, I was the pretty one, light, with good hair, and regular. In every photo from the seventies she was my shadow. I’d...

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There are no more silkworms in the wild

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 over ourselves, watching  through computer screens: a video of women's hands  laying out carpets and carpets of...

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unit_52

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.

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Two Poems

Two Poems

My aluminum-free/deodorant is made/of charcoal. Iterative/self-perceptions slam/into one another with/the incongruity of/perched hummingbirds.

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