Kim Roberts
Benjamin Banneker at Jones Point

Kim Roberts - Benjamin Banneker at Jones Point

Kim Roberts is the editor of the anthology By Broad Potomac’s Shore: Great Poems from the Early Days of our Nation’s Capital (University of Virginia Press, 2020), and the author of A Literary… Read more »
Jill McDonough
Drunk Driving

Jill McDonough - Drunk Driving

Jill McDonough’s books of poems include Here All Night (Alice James, 2019), Reaper (Alice James, 2017), Where You Live (Salt, 2012), and Habeas Corpus (Salt, 2008). The recipient of three Pushcart… Read more »
Trapper Markelz
First Snow

Trapper Markelz - First Snow

Trapper Markelz is a poet, musician, and cyclist, who writes from Boston, MA. You can learn more at Read more »
LeRoy Sorenson

LeRoy Sorenson - Hometown

Main Street Rag published LeRoy Sorenson’s poetry collection, Forty Miles North of Nowhere. His chapbook Railman’s Son will be published in 2021. He won The Tishman Review 2019 Edna St. Vincent… Read more »
Mary Ardery
Kawana Campsite

Mary Ardery - Kawana Campsite

Mary Ardery is originally from Bloomington, IN. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Missouri Review’s “Poem of the Week,” Fairy Tale Review, Cincinnati Review’s “miCRo” series, Prairie… Read more »
Bryce Emley
St. Felicity Watches St. Perpetua’s Executioner

Bryce Emley - St. Felicity Watches St. Perpetua’s Executioner

Bryce Emley is the author of the prose chapbooks A Brief Family History of Drowning (winner of the 2018 Sonder Press Chapbook Prize) and Smoke and Glass (Folded Word, 2018). A Narrative 30 Below 30… Read more »

First Snow

Trapper Markelz

Our calendars begin in the wrong spot. They should start and end with the first snow, a great eraser, unsharpening the earth and blurring the boundary between spruce grove and sky. Every footprint made visible in a grand reordering of urgent peace amid the crystal quiet. On snowy days, I’d ride shotgun in my dad’s snowplow truck counting backup beeps before the drop of the blade, some deft angling, and a crunching rush of progress crossing a small craft runway, a plumbing store parking lot, or a long, wooded driveway making space for all the civilization. Next morning—our work is deleted and we do what all humans do: pull on boots, grab the keys, and thrust our dull blades forward.
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