This entry is part of Getaway Reads, a weekly e-mail series curated by Stephanie Cawley that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. Crossing the Milky Way by Anndee Hochman Here is the baby: smell of sourdough, brown butter, mown wheat, warm earth. Moist anemone hands, the toes you nibble as if they are nubs of maple sugar. Behind the closed bedroom door, talk ripples up from downstairs. You rock in the hand-painted chair. Here is the hunger, legible in her wide blue eyes, garnet blossom of a mouth, the cry that bubbles ... Read More...
Getaway Reads: Two Poems by Stephen Dunn
This entry is part of Getaway Reads, a weekly e-mail series curated by Stephanie Cawley that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. Don't Do That by Stephen Dunn It was bring-your-own if you wanted anything hard, so I brought Johnnie Walker Red along with some resentment I’d held in for a few weeks, which was not helped by the sight of little nameless things pierced with toothpicks on the tables, or by talk that promised to be nothing if not small. But I’d consented to come, and I knew what part of the house their ... Read More...
Getaway Reads: Who Will Tell My Story? by Mimi Schwartz
Murphy Writing of Stockton University Presents This entry is part of Getaway Reads, an e-mail series curated by Stephanie Cawley that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. Who Will Tell My Story? by Mimi Schwartz I was away on a writing retreat this January, the first time since my husband Stu died last August that I was able to push away the loss and sense of chaos and feel more like a self I remembered. I vowed not to do e-mail, but like Adam biting the apple, I did it anyway. “Did you pay your quarterly taxes ... Read More...
Getaway Reads: Two Poems by BJ Ward
This entry is part of Getaway Reads, a weekly e-mail series curated by Stephanie Cawley that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. The Star-Ledger by BJ Ward 287 was the long road to the newspaper plant my black-handed father would ride beneath the weight of a night sky. A father who works the night shift knows that weight, how it accumulates from within when his mistakes and debt begin to press on his children and ... Read More...
Getaway Reads: Fifty-Fifty by Roberta Clipper
This entry is part of Getaway Reads, a weekly e-mail series curated by Stephanie Cawley that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. Fifty-Fifty by Roberta Clipper That’s what I call myself. My mother’s a mongrel. That’s what she says: ancestors from so many different parts of Europe that she can’t tell where she got the same name as Dad’s. It’s true! It’s on her birth certificate—Gillian Ann Gill. As southern as the William Williamses and Jo Ann Joneses of the West. I tease her: “If you’d hyphenated it, you’d be Jill ... Read More...