Richard Becker

Richard Becker - Chesapeake

Richard Becker’s poetry has appeared in America: The National Catholic Review, Columbia: A Magazine of Poetry and Prose, Cold Mountain… Read more »
Michelle Matthees

Michelle Matthees - Homemade

Michelle Matthees’ poems have appeared in Memorious, PANK, The Prose Poem Project, and numerous other journals. Her first collection, Flucht,… Read more »
Greg Allendorf

Greg Allendorf - Hominids

Greg Allendorf is originally from Cincinnati, OH. His poems have appeared in or are forthcoming from such journals as Smartish… Read more »
Trent Busch

Trent Busch - Lit

Trent Busch is a native of rural West Virginia who now lives in Georgia where he makes furniture. His poems… Read more »
Keith Dunlap
Motorboat Motorboat

Keith Dunlap - Motorboat Motorboat

Keith Dunlap’s first collection of poems, Storyland, was published in June 2016 by Hip Pocket Press. His work has appeared… Read more »
Michael Homolka
Rhapsody with Impasse

Michael Homolka - Rhapsody with Impasse

Michael Homolka is the author of Antiquity, winner the 2015 Kathryn A. Morton Prize in Poetry from Sarabande Books. His… Read more »
Amy Krohn
The House in Illinois

Amy Krohn - The House in Illinois

Amy Krohn lives with her husband and three children in rural Wisconsin. Her poems have been published in Hummingbird, Kindred,… Read more »

Motorboat Motorboat

Keith Dunlap

We cannot see the craft,
but only hear the sizzling drum
of its gas-fired engine
ricocheting off the top of every tree-shagged mountain
that shoulders this ancient glacial pond.
It declaims a music of the older sort:
flat benches strewn with stale cushions
and the rot of algae, dust, and motor oil;
a few desultory teenagers spilled around
its cavity like prisoners ferried
from town to town for unessential punitive tasks;
one letting his fingers scrape the corrugated glass
of the lake; another shouting a story,
which no one else can quite comprehend,
about how once he almost drowned
when his feet got tangled in a towline.
The others do not care that his words are mutilated
in the noisy air. They are content to be barely clothed
inside a motorboat as it bounces along,
like a skipping stone chucked toward its inevitable
who knows where. Read more »