Summer 2015: Poetry
Levine Under Erasure
by Juleen Johnson
A winter pouring fire, Ford Cadillac, gray fat stacks of tongues. Rags, stem birch dirtied words. Near the freeway stop came off, recall snowstorm lost the northern bear, caught ice steel rain shower of human breath. False material rests. One child stares into eyes lights change the cry smoke hanging river stop iron. Burn every day.
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As hot as the summer sun, 13 poets breathe light into the darkness. |
Tending to the worn, imperfect edges of life, five writers grapple with perimeters. |
Like a swarm of bees or a flock of birds: four artists layer meaning through detail. |
Four teens observe their world and put words to page like only young voices can. |
From emerging to established writers – meet the women behind our seventh issue’s voices and visions. |