The Fourth River

poem

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Tributaries, The New Nature: “107 Nekoma Drive”

By on November 8, 2017

  Selected by Ira Sukrungruang By Jenna Bazzell     ** Jenna Bazzell holds an MFA from Southern Illinois University-Carbondale. Currently, she is semi-finalist for the 2017 Miller Williams Poetry Prize for the University of Arkansas Press. She won the

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Tributaries, The New Nature: “Balance”

By on November 2, 2017

Selected by Ira Sukrungruang   By Margaux Griffith     ** Margaux Griffith earned an MFA in Poetry at Oklahoma State University. She won the 2012 Anderbo Poetry Prize for her poem “Apple Galette” as well as the 2015 Blue

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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

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Tributaries: “Arkansas Anoles”

By on July 19, 2017

By Stacy Pendergrast     Before Daddy left us for New York, he told me if I could catch one of those lizards its tail would snap off. Those critters ran up and down our house all day, their true

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Tributaries: “Mobius”

By on July 12, 2017

By Nat Froiland   Searing thighs stomp pedals towards radiating pavement, each pump another pressing decision. Not the reflex begun in Milwaukee’s morning rush, but a conscious twilight effort among anonymous county highways. The river races the wrong way, inviting

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Tributaries: “Morning Glory”

By on June 28, 2017

By Fay L. Loomis   first blush of warmth unfolds velvety purple face midday withered glory carpe mane seize the morning   ** Fay L. Loomis, a nemophilist (haunter of the woods, one who loves the forest, its beauty, and

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Tributaries: “Rehabilitation: A Gospel”

By on June 21, 2017

  By Ashely Adams   It took three days to pull your wings    from the metal grille. What can a man do with an owl a shroud of cardboard and terry cloth? There’s no one here to roll back your

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Tributaries: “Peony”

By on June 7, 2017

By Sally Nacker   for B.W.   You bring home a peony bush to plant with your dog’s ashes. Too late for medicine, or hope, but not for beauty. Each June, an effusion of vivid blossoms will open, blessing air.

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Tributaries: “Crossing Borders”

By on May 17, 2017

By Aileen Bassis   Walking on roads and rubble, gravel and grass, pavement and black-top. We know our past. We don’t know what waits. Grass and pavement, black-top hillsides and grasslands, desert and dirt, we don’t know what waits —

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Tributaries: “My Horticulture”

By on March 29, 2017

By Bruce Robinson   ***   Recent work by Bruce Robinson appears in Yo-NewYork!, Pittsburgh Poetry Houses, enclave, and Mobius.