Cy Twombley, set of five paintings, 1985 Here it is, the Impressionist garden raised to another level of fluidity, no shape assembling itself in a wash of pink and red, a watery garden where one color flows into another, roses blazing and bleeding, pink, crimson, carmine, scarlet, until the color flames to blood, the colours…
Zacharis Award Ploughshares and Emerson College are pleased to present David Gewanter with the eighth annual John C. Zacharis First Book Award for his collection of poems, In the Belly, which was published last year by the University of Chicago Press. The $1,500 award — which is funded by Emerson College and named after the…
Number 280 in the Audubon Society Field Guide At first it seems the most subtle of spirits, inhabiting invisibly this dense, adumbral light at the bottom of the woodland understory, the rise and fall of its own recurring phrase so tremulous, so mournful a tone, we resist our impulse to pause beneath…
November 1997 Its bare branches the winter before were exuberant scrawls against a blank sky about to snow and then snowing, or runes punctuated by the brownish-gray question marks of squirrels. And this fall, the leaves were so gold they looked heavy as Cleopatra’s burnished throne or as some feeling unexpressed. The one tree in…
MASTHEAD Guest Editor Thomas Lux Editor Don Lee Poetry Editor David Daniel Assistant Editor Gregg Rosenblum Associate Fiction Editor Maryanne O'Hara Associate Poetry Editor Susan Conley Founding Editor DeWitt Henry Founding Publisher Peter O'Malley Editorial Assistants: Kris Fikkan, Eson Kim, Michelle Campo, and Jean Hopkinson. Staff Assistant: Tom Herd. Poetry Readers: Brian Scales, Jennifer Thurber,…
Thank God for the beaver pond. You know I had my doubts about cutting the two-hour trail so close to the pond, but those animals are not shy, and let me tell you: it was destiny. Those two men I guided last night? They said they had come all the way…
As if their very comeliness were centrifugal, one falls forward slightly toward the husband and wife standing together under the outdoor lights of a summer party. Sunburnt, vibrant, expressive, perfectly proportioned, they make clear, unwittingly and in relief, our ordinary, passably-attractive selves. God and goddess, or king and queen, amassing mythic energy as they speak…
It’s a December afternoon in Houston, and I’m stuck in traffic on Westheimer, in a strip of shopping centers — an unrevealing detail, since Houston mostly is a strip of shopping centers, more retail opportunities stretched endlessly along these roads than you’d think even the fourth largest city in America could ever make use of….
We saw it on the side of the road, its back legs splayed like scissors that have come unhinged: a rabbit dragging its ruined parts, insisting on the sweet grass beyond the curb. We knew it was dying, Susan and I. We said We should leave it, as we stopped down the road and asked…
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