From this Issue
Poem
From the magazine:Napa Valley
Napa Valley
Sacks of hair swing on the trees still,
though my uncle has left this house,
this hill, left the vines that fix
whatever they find to the ground
as they go.
Five years he swept the barber’s floor,
while the streets darkened, long after
the barber’s door...
though my uncle has left this house,
this hill, left the vines that fix
whatever they find to the ground
as they go.
Five years he swept the barber’s floor,
while the streets darkened, long after
the barber’s door...
Table of Contents
- Hilda Morley
- Mary Oliver
- Brigit Pegeen Kelly
- Wendy Barker
- Lucien Stryk
- Linda Pastan
- Kevin Cole
Brief Reviews
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