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
Gisela, my friend …
blond and tall as a man,
with shocking-blue eyes,
ruler-straight spine,
boots by the woodstove
ever ready to stampfen
spring mud, winter snow;
to dig your nails in black soil,
and forage for rare mushrooms
like pfifferlinger, to salvage carrots,
leeks and kohlrabi for tomorrow's soup.
I watch you at your ironing board,
burned and tattered, hemming cuffs
for others. Short puffs of steam rise
from your moist cloth. In the window
your cactus blooms on schedule.
Since those early days in undivided Berlin,
you have learned to live simply
in these rooms — filling them
with fragrant cinnamon and spice,
adding appleskins to color your sauce.
I admire the way you make the most of
this little house in the woods
and Horst, your husband of twenty years,
who dreams of his Nazi youth and vows
the world would be a fine place now
if Hitler were in charge.
Wanting only to forget all that,
you stitch around politics and religion —
speak only of a new dress for Gerta,
new pants for Fritz.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
