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Poem of the Month
Muskrat dives

By Louise Carson

Published on March 7, 2016

Muskrat dives, heavy, into a ditch.
      The water-sound shimmers like sheep bells.
(Yes, it’s really like this where I live.)

      Today the light is yellow-orange and very clear.
Today I see a perfect yellow bird among the gray-brown crowd.
      If I were a hawk I’d dive at him: he’d taste so sweet.

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I prowled up and down the rows of the hospital bookstore with a fevered intensity; “fevered” because it was a hospital, “intensity” because I was perplexed by the mysteriously ruptured tendon in the middle finger of my right hand

Zeitgeist

April 2015
              So it’s a dreary December, the sun a low ember behind ashen snowfall, when you see him bicycle by.               You know this guy! His paintbrush, you’ve seen it fly as watery blues and greys create a feisty pigeon perched atop a tarnished angel’s head.

from Swelles

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