Poetry

Hard Red Spring

The day I stood on the clipped grass of Olds College – after palming Norquay, Chinook, and Neepawa, until my fingers had unlocked their doors, and I could smell the loam and feel the wind, and see three months of…
Poetry

God Likes Hair Salons

I can’t believe God lives outside the house of earth, beyond the lawn of stars, and the fenced-yard universe, out in the timeless cold, his raw breath, his radon brow, ridged, veiling nebular eyes, and his fingers, freezing as he…
Poetry

Poetry by Rose Postma

MAY/JUNE 2014: POETRY by Rose Postma The Apostle Peter Contemplates Logical Fallacies Somewhere in Northwest Iowa, a Silver Laced Wyandotte grips the gray-cracked wood of a fence post with his claws. He puffs his feathers in the black-cold, shakes his…
Poetry

Counter Narrative

by Rose Postma In the seven days it took Utnapishtim's hired craftsmen to build his reed-stitched boat, Noah must have wandered over late at night to check his competition out: examining mortise and tenon, measuring the span of the joists,…