ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Cover
Masthead
Susan Deer Cloud:
Playing Marbles
Dan Nowak:
A Return to the Past After History Failed Me
Katie Hartsock:
The Sun Does Not Rise, We Turn To It
Naomi Glassman:
Miles until Michigan
Michael Keshigian:
Landlord
Andrew Terhune:
The Rabbits of Chicago Wait Only for Me
Mel Sarnese:
Family Reunion
David W. Landrum:
Jugville, USA
Todd Heldt:
The Problem with Memory
Tad Richards:
Mittens
Benjamin Russell:
Picasso's Loaves, 1952 (a photograph by Robert Doisneau)
Richard Lighthouse:
activities during meetings
Ryan A. Bunch:
At the Graveyard
Samuel S. Vargo:
Just a Rainy Night in Georgia
Caitlin Ramsey:
Handy
Kyi May Kaung:
Geese
Steve Klepetar:
Kids Today
Steve Trebellas:
Sweet Dimes
Dan Nowak:
Walking Through a Snow Storm is Like Waiting to Call Yourself
Kathleen Boyle:
O Nonni
Katerina Stoykova-Klemer:
Stones
Susan Deer Cloud:
Asthma
Patty Paine:
salt; or the night you left
Kyi May Kaung:
I come from …
Allan Peterson:
My Math
Maw Shein Win:
throwing sparklers at the green mezzanine
Kim Roberts:
Summer Rain
Samuel S. Vargo:
Fotophone
Janice D. Rubin:
Interstate 5
Patrick Loafman:
An Idiot's Guide to the Blue Cat
Saeed Jones:
Eve on Top
Jean Tupper:
Gisela, my friend …
Michael Spring:
Leaving Belfast
Ryan A. Bunch:
Annual Toads
Katie Hartsock:
Leaving the Forest
Contributors
Volume One Issue Two
Jugville, USA
Jugville, Michigan, 1999
It's Jugville for a pottery works
that once throve here.
Now fragments hint
at the thousands of crocks
made on this site and shipped
all over the Midwest, to be used
in dutiful kitchens and set in larders:
flour, molasses, oil, oats for porridge;
rye whisky secreted away.
In a yellowed photograph I see
the wooden factory, the kilns
with massive chimneys,
workers in shirtsleeves, in derby hats,
mustached, chewing on cigars, laboring
in a wilderness of crocks set out in rows,
ready for shipping, enough to store
an ocean of honey or beer.
Cotton to pad their wares, the men
load the new-fired receptacles carefully.
The horses steam and puff — loading
performed by those who,
like us, don't think they will ever die,
ever become a relic, ever join the clay
when the life breathed in goes out.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
