“Deer” by Iris Dickerson
September 6, 2023
In new woods, deer come as new life, growth, but blood looming. For you, deer, may have swift eyes, but what of your hooves? Because you must run, swift as the wind, but can’t hide. DEER is of the c...
A Blog of Seattle Arts & Lectures
In new woods, deer come as new life, growth, but blood looming. For you, deer, may have swift eyes, but what of your hooves? Because you must run, swift as the wind, but can’t hide. DEER is of the c...
Two roads in front of you, you take the road less traveled. Pfft, easy. Wait. Is that a Third road? When did that get here?
My brain is orange juice in a Klein Bottle. My sloppy thoughts go around in circles, but the journey is smooth. My legs are the wings of a bird. Taking chances and leading with purpose Even flying on ...
To travel is to be a passenger whose Memory is something that follows us where our lives themselves cannot. Personhood in motion is merely moment, after moment, after all; pieces of ourselves we put t...
Their Name Once upon a time their name was annoying and fake. Maddie was a coward, she was an outcast, a mistake. She trusted people blindly, as a result she was contorted. And who is she to blame exc...
American Poetry I imagine my brand-new copy of The Best American Poetry 2021 lying stiff and silent after the apocalypse. I’d like to remain conservative a little longer. save seed for winter. watch...
praise poem i praise my street smarts. i praise the ability to tell right from wrong and knowing when to do the wrong things for the right reasons. i praise my book smarts. i praise my ability ...
the poet this is you on your knees, surreal roses unfurled in a ghastly inversion at your feet. you balled your fists and balled your eyes out while you were patted on the back, like the ancient, qura...
“The Wizard of Bygone Boulevard” by Jo Chick Bygone boulevard was by no means a lively place, considering its inhabitants consisted of geriatric witches and wizards. For most of BygoneR...
Through a deep night shines a spark of hope like a wasp without a stinger like a blinding rip in the needles of the air no one sees this hope or maybe they’re just too tired to care It flickers thro...