I fell in love with a field of rye. It happened this spring for the first time and I am not young. Let me tell you how this field was both a single being and a multitude.
I stood at the edge of the gorge near the abandoned Allegheny coal mine.
The 2024 search is on for the 48th annual Bucks County Poet Laureate, according to Bucks County Community College professor and director of the program, Ethel Rackin.
I watch my grandson navigate his morning clothes, these undies, those shorts, this shirt, who cares what color, challenging what his three-year-old brain knows of spatial geometry …
There’s a corrosive little wake when Queen Latifah flicks her wrist miasming an omnipresent piano so she can turn her heart back to Eileen & find love in grief or another day will come.
He’d yell before I went anywhere especially if it was with a boy. He thought there were payphones everywhere. I guess he forgot we didn’t live on a Philly city block anymore.
Chalfont, Pennsylvania To rest beneath a canopy of sky Dappled by euphoric blossoms Pink as dawn and fragile ...
(Celebrating the 215th anniversary of Bethlehem A.M.E. Church, Langhorne) barrels of light etched itself across a log cabin, bearing a magnitude as gentle as a dove resting at dawn.
im 16 and i love strawberries and perfectly ripe peaches. i grew up in jersey and i love it there too. everything is legal in new jersey. im good at painting and bad at confrontation. i care too much …
The skull is packed in my attic. Perhaps I should warn my daughter, assuming she will be the one to sort my life once it’s done. It doesn’t smell anymore. It took a soaking in bleach and days of …
What did I want to do when I came back to write — to detail the drift — two wild hares a dead mouse, a tiny beautiful owl one of the hares chewed up and now this —a tortoise’s muddy back — …
The healing power of poetry will be featured in an “open mic” poetry reading from 6:30 to 8 p.m. Tuesday, April 30, at the Doylestown Library, celebrating National Poetry Month.
There’s a kind of love, maybe just compassion, that we feel for old peopleany old person. And when the we is the significant other of the old personit is love, it’s love added to the regular …
Wind chimes hang high in the branches Above a roughhewn house on a hill of cedar Suspended by a single golden hair A rooster crows in the distance I wake and the vision fades But still the dream …
It is said that before entering the sea a river trembles with fear.— Khalil GibranI relish days in solitudelanguishing in this estuarybefore being propelledinto the merciless oceanSwallow melike …
Even during the storm, tonight’s moonlight is generous enough to wend its way through the blinds, shifting patterns on my pillow. So here it is, this full moon in late March, on the cusp of spring, …
Snow soft and pretty on a windy winter day, pure white and undisturbed, it beckons us to play. Pushed by plows, the cars fly by. Snow blackens from the dirt, soon becoming something else, something we call …
Thank god in the cold for supermarket flowers. Such extravagance — I bought three lush bunches of tulips, though I wanted so many more to mass in glass vases on every surface in the house, vivid oblong …
In my backyard, trees tower above me. I run my hands over their surfaces: oak cast in flaky shells, ash in diamond ridges. After yesterday’s rain storm —a musky scent, hoof marks in the ground. Soon, …
I lay with this man and no one else for forty years or more. I lay with this man and no one else I love him to his core. I lay with this man and no one else since I became his wife. I lay with this man and …
