Even Ohio can change.
Rick Campbell
The river where I grew up is very dirty.
Use oil. Shoreline stone
Glittering with smooth blue, nothing.
Worth a slug.
Carp and catfish,
Sick, riddled with chemical blood.
My river is suitable for barges,
By American Steel Company, ARMCO, J& Length
They filled it with slag,
Dropping and discharging oil and gas
Through a thousand hidden holes.
Nothing good can be gained from it.
Besides life and life,
The persistent dream of the whole valley.
Indians named it the beautiful river.
There is nothing wrong. How would they know?
What will be black and black,
Burn the sky and turn the earth.
Into mud and cinder.
Even when we desperately need it
We can't kill it and the river.
Back to the river again.
In the icy ruins of the Ohio bank
Civet cats swim on the secret path below.
We get older, the river gets younger,
And huge fish ash into the air.
Swallow a caterpillar
Fall from a willow branch.
Adam came home from the war
Sean bishop
Yes, when the orchard is decorated with colors.
Sparrows scrawled in the sky.
The big moon hangs low on the grass like a titmouse,
I want to trade my Glock pistol for a bag of dew.
The war will stop. everybody
I can wash dishes. Where's the lion
Will fall sweetly on the lamb
Like a thorn in a rifle shell
Finally, their thorns were pulled out.
Once, on a bench by the river, the ducklings
It seems that bread is satisfied and happy. I have my girl.
That's a great past tense. Everything is beautiful.
Then, in the breeze: burnt spruce or musk.
Black powder and blood from further afield.
I made an ointment for my wound,
The person I injured also made ointment.
We are here tonight to give them to you.
: fable
Sandra beasley
The troubles of a man and a woman.
Small and light-handed.
The man decided to swallow his troubles,
Hide them in your heart. That woman
Throw hers as far away from the porch as possible.
They touched each other and felt relieved.
They make coffee and make plans.
The seaside in May.
All this time, I'm worried
Treat his insides like oysters,
Apply juice to your stomach first,
Then it grows layer by layer like pearls.
In the field beyond the clothesline,
Women's worries take root,
Tendrils pass through fertile soil.
This fable tells us that think of crows,
But it's no use crowing in the gutter
This house. This fable tells us
Think of lilies, but they are trembling in the yard.
Silence.
What this metaphor doesn't tell you is
This woman collects porcelain cats.
Some are big, some are all * * *, some are gold-plated and some are plain.
A stop door. One glass of cream and another glass of sugar.
This man knows that they are tacky. Still, when a person
That belongs to her great-aunt Phil.
When she cried, he hugged her and hugged her.
Even after her breathing became longer and she fell asleep.
This metaphor doesn't care about such things.
Worry has reached a person's home.
With a woman. Their garden has lost its green color
Bitter, cowering corn in the shell.
He asked himself, what shall we eat? They sit.
Sit at the table and open the mail: a bill, a bill, a bill,
An invitation. She put a salt bottle cat
Asked between her palms, what shall we wear?
He rubbed his thumb against her wrist.
He wants to know how to provide it.
The string of pearls twisted in his stomach.