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Poem: Upon the Desert Wind

Poem: Upon the Desert Wind »

By: L. M. Browning

  I want to make a pilgrimage back to our homeland of sand, blood, and ripened figs. To unearth the garden I planted in another life the roots of... more

Poem: The Nomadic Soul

Poem: The Nomadic Soul »

By: L. M. Browning

  The caravan of the soul moves from body to body as a Bedouin moves his tent across the great desert. Each life is a marketplace in a different... more

Poem: Searching for Hidden Doors

Poem: Searching for Hidden Doors »

By: L. M. Browning

  You must be a child to find the hiding places where the unseen ones dwell just beyond the veil. The logic of the adult cannot think beyond the... more

Poem: The Housatonic at West Cornwall

Poem: The Housatonic at West Cornwall »

By: David K. Leff

"There’s no tonic like the Housatonic." —Oliver Wendell Holmes Shadowed by green humped hills, anglers cast into riffles and pocket-water where... more

Poem: Roots in the Sea

Poem: Roots in the Sea »

By: L. M. Browning

Written on Barn Island, Stonington, CT The channels of sea Meander through the dense reeds. Winding embankments Scallop the coast. The paths... more

Poem: The Mystic River

Poem: The Mystic River »

By: L. M. Browning

Written alongside the Mystic River, Mystic, CT The slow current of the river Is a balm for the overworked mind. Watching the continuous flow Of the... more

Poem: On The Far Side of Walden

Poem: On The Far Side of Walden »

By: L. M. Browning

Written at Walden Pond, Concord, MA Ankle-deep in mud Along the banks of Walden, I find my footing. Standing in the ruins of the cabin, I return... more

Poem: When We Last Made Applesauce

Poem: When We Last Made Applesauce »

By: Leslie McGrath

When we last made applesauce, we made our last love. For what other reason do blade and apple meet than separation? So I used the knife and you doused the... more

Poem: The Boat Builder’s Wife

Poem: The Boat Builder’s Wife »

By: Leslie McGrath

  I know there are others, see their traces on your clothing, the scratches, the bruises. Cara Mia’s mahogany curls clung like burrs to your... more

Poem: Fold

Poem: Fold »

By: Leslie McGrath

  From our bass boat’s slip on the Mystic it’s a two-bridge wait—bascule and swing bridge, before the river yawns into open water. But the... more