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Monthly Archives: December 2012
SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: OSIP MANDELSTAM
“HEAVINESS, TENDERNESS . . .” By Osip Mandelstam Translated from the Russian by Eugene Serebryany Heaviness, tenderness—sisters, your traits are alike. Honeybees drink a rose that is tender and heavy. Someone passes away. Once-warm sand cooling down . . . … Continue reading
Posted in Osip Mandelstam
Tagged Poetry, poetry in translation, Poetry International, Poetry of Loss
1 Comment
My Favorite First Line
My Favorite First Line by Jordan A. Rothacker When I think of my favorite first lines in literature, there is one that haunts me most often. This particular line is from a fairly recent read in my life with books … Continue reading
SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: WILLIAM KELLEY WOOLFITT
SHE REMEMBERS THE WEDDING OF SAMSON AND HER SISTER By William Kelley Woolfitt From my hiding spot, what I saw of him was as I thought the lion dying and torn, or the bees—flitting from the carcass’s dark cave—might see, … Continue reading
This Is My Rifle
This Is My Rifle by Paul Crenshaw A few months after I moved to North Carolina I was sitting on a porch with a half-dozen other people, drinking and talking about writing, movies, books we loved. It was October, and … Continue reading
Posted in Paul Crenshaw
Tagged Gun Control, Gun Violence, Military, Newtown Mass Shooting
4 Comments
What Nancy Lanza Knew
What Nancy Lanza Knew by Sonya Huber I was in the grocery checkout line when I learned that Adam Lanza killed his mother. Over the following days, the facts wavered in the Internet deluge: she did work at the school … Continue reading
Posted in Sonya Huber
Tagged Gun Control, Mass Shootings, Newtown, NRA, Ohio State MFA, Sonya Huber
24 Comments
The Weight of a Gun
The Weight of a Gun by Tawnysha Greene When I was eight years old, I shot my first semi-automatic weapon, but that wasn’t the first time I had ever held a gun. When I was three, I wandered into my … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
1 Comment
SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: STEPHANIE BRYANT ANDERSON
SOMETIMES THE BLOOD GOES COLD By Stephanie Bryant Anderson My sleeping bones live, like snow on snow, I hear them speak: another day, another night. Another. Another. Sometimes (in the hours that you’re gone) the blood goes cold. (Today’s poem … Continue reading
