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POETS

Barbara Louise Ungar

Self-Interview

Regular pronouncements about the moribund state of poetry consider mostly the big fish who swim in popular grounds, while the depths are teeming with undiscovered creatures. We are all swept along together, on regularly reversing tides, which none of us can escape, but merely look curiously at our near neighbors as we pass.

Poetry

Becoming My Father's Mother

By Barbara Louise Ungar

How the dead live on in us,
how we learn they do not die—
how their photographs possess their souls
as if they still breathed.

Topical Poem

Propertius 1.1 & 1.6

By Chris Childers

Tullus, I’m not afraid to sail with you
the Adriatic or Aegean blue;
with you, I’d trek those peaks of Scythia’s,
or farther south than Memnon’s palaces;
but my girl hugs my neck, and blocks my path,
and begs, and blanches, and turns red with wrath.