Three Poems by Ryan Quinn Flanagan
Run into the Canyon and the Canyon Says Ouch!
Darting eyes of the patchy coyote,no bodies in the brush because this is notsome simpleton dumping ground;this is exploding...
From Let The Wind Push Us Across by Jane Schapiro
Tent
Sometimes in the morning,
before opening my eyes,
I dream of our tent,
that tiny green dome.
From behind its walls
thin as skin, I hear birds,
leaves, a brush of wind.
I yearn...
Patriotism Reconsidered by Lucinda Marshall
Ed. Note: Another in our series of poems by writers who participated in Arlington Writers Resist.
My anthem is the serenade of birds,
sung without regard for map lines
delineating...
On Other Birds by Kelly Ann Jacobson
Through the harsh whistle of a
bullying Blue Jay from the feeder,
the Common Yellowthroat’s
wichity-wichity-wichity,
we find our own through bill and tap
and rhythmic drumming on drainpipe,
bone against bone.
So much...
