Journal

Shannon Finck

Origin Story Whitney’s mother didn’t watch us good I knew this to be true the day we saw the baby…

5 years ago

Irene Fick

Porcelain Meditation The toilet keeps backing up and I’m tired of thrusting the splintered plunger up and down, tired of…

5 years ago

Dan Gallagher

Mapping the Sky Sometimes I feel like I’m flying over Alaska And can’t see anything Or I’m a moose shot…

5 years ago

Suzy Harris

Prairie Waves Grand Forks, North Dakota It could have been a January like this when the afternoon light from that…

5 years ago

Marilyn Johnston

On the Road to Oakridge Mid-morning and I’m late to a meeting at the Town Hall, and I’m only outside…

5 years ago

Tricia Knoll

Kim Stafford, Oregon’s Ninth Poet Laureate Some say he followed in footsteps, wore hand-me-down boots or learned to pull up…

5 years ago

Dana Knott

Grief Something has nested above my heart Its musical notes rise up like sighs then fall like fledglings trying too…

5 years ago

Bruce McRae

Bury Me Standing We’re all dead. We’re all lying in the clover, black-eyed with regrets and ‘tectonic grievances’. We’re all…

5 years ago

Francis Opila

Wapato Island November 5th Tuesday 1805 a Cloudy morning Som rain the after part of last night & this morning.…

5 years ago