Poetry

In a valley late bees with whining gold
Thread summer to the loose ends of sleep;
A harvester pauses, surprised, in dreams of sheep,
Across his back the ravellings of the sun.

In Women of Troy, poet Susan Somers-Willett and photographer Brenda Ann Kenneally look at the lives of young, working-class women in Troy, New York.

Did you know? You have the right to receive food stamps within a few days if you are eligible and have little or no money. Do any of these apply to you?

She’s always been a tomboy, Mama Vic says, Mouthy.
Runnin’ the roads. Not comin’ home, and as she speaks

You are the country at war and the city ablaze.
You are the flags lining Fourth Street and the singer

Once, I was a daughter of this place:
daughter of Gwen, granddaughter
of Leretta, great of Eugenia McGee.

I thought that when I saw my brother
walking through the gates of the prison,
he would look like a man entering his life. 

Announcing a new poetry project in the spirit of the Federal Writers’ Project.

Garlands of trinitarias shade an artist’s studio,
plainer than their synagogue halfway down the hill,
its ceiling painted with stars, a glass chandelier.

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