The Fourth River


Poem: “Light, Pinned and Singing,” by Jessica Reed

By on January 7, 2012

I am finally present. As Virginia said, My eyes are hard. Years ago now, in optics lab, my partner’s strange pronunciation of ‘frosted glass’. We were looking at spectra then: glass- shattered light lines. But I couldn’t focus. Those radiant

Poem: “The Canyon,” by Candace Black

By on December 7, 2011

Beyond the strip of backyard grass, further than the rim of ice plant’s succulent green spears, past the firebreak bulldozers shaved each spring across tufts of scrubby chaparral and mustard, exposing once

Poem: “Daffodils One Sunday Before Snow,” by Shaun T. Griffin

By on October 31, 2011

Already the bulbs croon the silent damp, the edge of spring not days from here, land of the thin green necks that sprout before the last white morning— because, of course, it will come. Helpless in another silence, my father-in-law