The Fourth River

Tributaries, The New Nature: Three Poems by Caitlin Scarano

By on October 25, 2017

Selected by Ira Sukrungruang   Calf I am driving by a field. Mountains crusted with a gold decay surround me. My mother called yesterday; they finally have a diagnosis. In the field, I notice a cow on her side, a

Tributaries, The New Nature: “When the World Doesn’t See You But You See (and Feel) the World”

By on October 18, 2017

 Selected by Ira Sukrungruang   By Rochelle Spencer   Six months ago, I sent out an email, with the subject line “Earth Day and People of Color,” to more than a dozen media outlets. “There’s a myth,” I wrote, “that

Tributaries, The New Nature: “My Dream about Being Loved”

By on October 11, 2017

Selected by Ira Sukrungruang   By Marney Rathbun   I think they are wolves, or One is a coyote, the leaner grey one, And the other a wolf, broad As a table, with blue back fur. The street is unlit

Tributaries: “Lily Watch”

By on October 4, 2017

By Lisa Hammond   Another year we greet summer, spider lilies waking in the Catawba every May, this time blooming slow, a cool April. We follow the lily watch, high water warnings, papers reporting clumps washed upstream, rare but still

Tributaries: “I Had to Give You Back to the Sea”

By on September 27, 2017

By Devon Balwit       *This poem was written in response to the above artwork. I Just Had to Give You Back to the Sea 30×40″, mixed media on gallery canvas Lorette C. Luzajic www.mixedupmedia.ca ** Devon Balwit writes

Tributaries: “We are the Ocean”

By on September 20, 2017

By Urvashi Bahuguna   A whale fall is the carcass of a whale that has fallen to the ocean floor, & that sometimes creates complex, localized ecosystems supporting deep sea life.​   ​We have learned to hold the drift ​ in our jaws, seaweed ​breathing from a blowhole. We are the ocean trying one​ hand at perpetuity.

Tributaries: “Practical Augury”

By on September 13, 2017

By Carrie Laben   It’s one of the most laid-back forms of fortune telling. No special potions or smokes required, no messy entrails, no cards to shuffle and no tea cups to rinse. Just tip your head back and look

Tributaries: “The Snapping Turtle”

By on September 6, 2017

By Karen J. Weyant   The road near Benson Pond is always littered with roadkill. Twisted deer legs lie tangled in weeds, dead raccoons are knotted in cattails, and mounds of porcupine quills puncture the air. There’s matted fur and

Tributaries: “Lake Michigan Boys”

By on August 30, 2017

 By Allen Weber   Winter never leaves suddenly. Creeping temperatures coax groans from the thickest ice, and sometimes a cocksure boy wanders too far from shore— makes an island of himself. Incensed by indecision, The rest wish it were us

Tributaries: “Willow Grove, Acrostic”

By on August 23, 2017

By Abigail Wang   Walls streaked in tape was how we left it on the last day. A father’s pride is Immutable, but at six, I swore I would never do the same when I had children, Letting them plaster