Faint Music by Robert Hass

Maybe you need to write a poem about grace. When everything broken is broken, and everything dead is dead, and the hero has looked into the mirror with complete contempt, and the heroine has studied her face and its defects … continue reading >>

Between the Wars by Robert Hass

When I ran, it rained. Late in the afternoon— midsummer, upstate New York, mornings I wrote, read Polish history, and there was a woman whom I thought about; outside the moody, humid American sublime—late in the afternoon, toward sundown, just … continue reading >>

TRESPASS by Matt Gano

We cloaked in dark navy our bags obese with Rust-O’s, fat-caps and thins, we were as big as we could be. The faint clacking of cans called to rattlesnakes coiled in the rockery like land mines. In the desert night, …