Kenji C. Liu
After Tofu Mantra II

Kenji C. Liu - After Tofu Mantra II

Kenji C. Liu ( is a 1.5-generation immigrant from New Jersey. A Pushcart Prize nominee and first runner-up finalist for… Read more »
Matthew Lippman
American Typewriter

Matthew Lippman - American Typewriter

Matthew Lippman is the author of three poetry collections, American Chew (Burnisde Review Press, 2013), which won the Burnside Review… Read more »
Sarah Brown Weitzman

Sarah Brown Weitzman - Ecosphere

Sarah Brown Weitzman, a Pushcart nominee in 2012, has had work in numerous journals and anthologies including the North American… Read more »
Anne Barngrover

Anne Barngrover - Flashback

Anne Barngrover’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in such journals as Indiana Review, Meridian, Ninth Letter, and Witness, among… Read more »
Zackary Sholem Berger
Green Aquarium

Zackary Sholem Berger - Green Aquarium

Zackary Sholem Berger ( is a writer and translator in Baltimore who writes poetry and prose in English and Yiddish.… Read more »
Lesley Jenike
Had I Been Any God of Power

Lesley Jenike - Had I Been Any God of Power

Lesley Jenike is Associate Professor of English and Head of the English and Philosophy Department at the Columbus College of… Read more »
Skaidrite Stelzer
Remembering Roundness

Skaidrite Stelzer - Remembering Roundness

Skaidrite Stelzer is a poet and teacher living in Toledo Ohio. A post-WWII refugee, she grew up in Michigan as… Read more »
Rachel Linnea Brown
To Ply

Rachel Linnea Brown - To Ply

Rachel Linnea Brown is currently pursuing her MFA in poetry at Colorado State University. She earned her BA in English… Read more »
Elizabeth Spires
When They Go

Elizabeth Spires - When They Go

Elizabeth Spires is the author of six collections of poetry, including Worldling, Nor the Green Blade Rises and The Wave-Maker… Read more »

To Ply

Rachel Linnea Brown

I gather
a fistful of roving—

guttural bleats, wobble-legged
searching after fat pink teats—

silence as my mother’s shuttle
crosses her warp—the pattern

in weave, her whirring fingers—

and drop
my spindle again—

afterbirth I mistook for a lamb
and its legs    I folded into earth

after years—yellow lawn chairs
rounding the grave my mother

and I dug     in our rooted field.

I will twist into cream

and gray and moorit skeins—

and tuck all

away from moths      and dust
for my eventual, casting on— Read more »