The Lake Isle of Innisfree by William Butler Yeats I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

On October 17, 2021, I posted a prompt called Answer Me This. It asked that you write a piece that answers 6 questions. A wonderful poet, Penelope Scambly Schott, shared with me the poem she wrote from the prompt and it is amazing. I was thinking about her poem and thought it is time for the same prompt, but with different questions. You can find the original prompt if you scroll through the prompts. Below is the second Answer Me This prompt. As always, have fun with it. Reme

Feed My People (The Toxicology Prayer) by Cedric Tillman published in RHINO (won 2nd prize in the 2021 Editor's Prize contest) Father we come to you again because another dead black man is on the news. Lord I ask that by this time tomorrow we’ll find out he didn’t need money, that he had a regular job and not a side hustle, that you’ll close up the mouths of the reporters fixed on telling us he was broke. Make him worthy of mercy Lord, not one of these people selling burnt CD

Daughter Mined With Mercury by Shagufta Mulla published in Blood Orange Review, 2021 (Contest Winner) You painted me in shadowy stripes of your choosing, iron bars that stung my fingers and tongue to break up my beams of gold. I remember playing with loose beads of mercury. sleepwalking, falling out of bed. talking in my sleep. I got up in the dark and couldn’t find the door. I traced back to my bed and hid under the sheets. Did I break the thermometer? I don’t remem

Some words are difficult to pronounce, some to spell, some to guess on Wordle, some to teach, some to use correctly, and some to stop saying once we get them in our heads. This last one can also apply to writing: you may find yourself repeating a certain word (or phrase) in your writing for a period of time. You may not even notice it until you get some distance from your work and then head back to revise and edit. I was on an "untenable" kick for most of the spring. I don't

September Tomatoes by Karina Borowicz published in Ecotone, Issue 15 The whiskey stink of rot has settled in the garden, and a burst of fruit flies rises when I touch the dying tomato plants. Still, the claws of tiny yellow blossoms flail in the air as I pull the vines up by the roots and toss them in the compost. It feels cruel. Something in me isn’t ready to let go of summer so easily. To destroy what I’ve carefully cultivated all these months. Those pale flowers might stil

My Sex Life by Diane Seuss published in Rattle, #16, Winter 2001: Tribute to Boomer Girls Having a threesome with Jack Daniels and Billie Holiday. Garden sex with the dumb serpent. Sex at the Wailing Wall, the Berlin Wall, the Great Wall, the Wall of Names. Sex with Sonny Corleone against the wall during the wedding. Having horse sex with Mr. Ed reruns. Olive oil sex with the Big Cook. Clothesline sex with the chickens hanging there; with the bodies without heads running thro

This week's writing prompt takes its cue from today's poem by Jeremy Downes. (So go read that poem if you haven't already!) Write a poem (or short story or memoir piece or essay) that takes place in a kitchen. Be sure to mention at least some of the various gadgets, appliances, furniture, and tools found there. Try to avoid food references--instead, focus on all of the non-food details, including descriptions that use the 5 senses (you don't need to lick the sink!). Extra Bro

Kia Writes the Microwaves by Jeremy Downes Kia writes the microwaves sizzling yesterday’s browned grief; Kia reads the manuals, finds the pounds per square inch pressure shrugged in the can-opener’s blade. Kia writes the spray and whuush of dishwashers striking up at dawn; Kia watches as the maple knife block does its work; as the salad spinner spins; as the blender threshes, combs, combines. Kia writes refrigerated lyrics, the buzzing light’s fluorescent prose, and Kia wants

Same Wording: English Spelling vs. Chinese Syntax by Yuan Changming published in The HitchLit Review, Vol 3, Issue 2, Autumn 2020 钱是没有问题 Money is having no problem 问题是没有钱 Problem is having no money 有钱是没问题 Having money is no problem 没有钱是问题 Having no money is problem 问题是钱没有 Problem is having no money 钱没有是问题 Having no money is problem

Dean Young's poem, also posted here on my blog, is an incredible poem about love/sex/romance/desire/yearning . . . in other words, passion. Yet none of these words are in his poem. Look at the words that are in his poem; sure, a few of them are words you might find in a typical love poem (eyes, song, burning, touch) but most of them are not words we associate with love/love poems. And that is part of what makes his poem so marvelous. The poem also builds up in both speed and

Delphiniums in a Window Box by Dean Young (1955-2022) Every sunrise, sometimes strangers’ eyes. Not necessarily swans, even crows, even the evening fusillade of bats. That place where the creek goes underground, how many weeks before I see you again? Stacks of books, every page, character’s rage and poet’s strange contraption of syntax and song, every song even when there isn’t one. Every thistle, splinter, butterfly over the drainage ditches. Every stray. Did you see the me