Arts and Humanities Commons^™

Icarus As Teacher, Ann Zoller

Bryant Literary Review

When Icarus taught me

to fly beyond the dream,

Men's Department, Leslie Pietrzyk

Bryant Literary Review

Ann had been watching her husband pick through suits long enough, and the painful blister on her heel had just popped.

Onions, Joseph Pipolo

Bryant Literary Review

I wonder how many more red onions will come out of your garden

now that you're dead.

Contributors

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.

Title Page

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.

Verso

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.

Table Of Contents

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.

Editor's Note

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.

Thesis, Bryan Walpert

Bryant Literary Review

Consider the certain rhetoric of flatware.

The drawer's slots, the clean classification:

Nikkie And Jesus, Arthur Winfield Knight

Bryant Literary Review

My wife says we ought to feed the dog

before we go to dinner, but I know

Homecoming, Susan Clayton-Goldner

Bryant Literary Review

A father hangs small clothes in the trees

believing his dead son

will find them, dress up

A Boy's Bike, Diane Lockward

Bryant Literary Review

One morning a bike appears in our driveway,

at the end where we can't not notice it,

The Final Note, Roland Goity

Bryant Literary Review

Boxes everywhere. And strapping tape, lots of strapping tape. Enough to mark a football field end zone

What Cannot Be Found Is Always Enough, Thomas Bonoma

Bryant Literary Review

When you can no longer point to me,

waving at you from the edge of these woods,

Dream Landscape With Wheatfield, Art Zilleruelo

Bryant Literary Review

1

when the wind

comes, my father fishhooks

a tape recorder and casts

Shipwreck Survivors March Along The Coastline, Timothy Martin

Bryant Literary Review

Three days, twelve days, a lifetime.

To starboard, the sea that didn't bury us.

Love American Style (Or How Pop Got His Green Card), Rosanna Armendariz

Bryant Literary Review

My pop, Nigel Pepper, came to the United States in 1971. He flew here illegally, using a network of bribes.

Wild Running Words, Jeanne Lohmann

Bryant Literary Review

because you can die of indecision

and wanting to do too much

in one failing body whose limits

Travel Tips For The Solo Female In Central America, Cindy May Murphy

Bryant Literary Review

I.

Do not pick up pillows thrown

into airplane aisles by withered men

Born Again In Brooklyn, John Azrak

Bryant Literary Review

I want to be born again

in Brooklyn. Oh, how I would

worship the very playground

Goody-Goody, Robert Kaye

Bryant Literary Review

"Don't be such a goody-goody, Wilson." The voice arched over the heads of children and parents alike,

George Segal's The Butcher Shop, Stephen Gibson

Bryant Literary Review

Take a plaster body cast of a dumpy

butcher, set her across from a plaster customer

Call It A Draw: On Art And Love, Neil Carpathios

Bryant Literary Review

--for my wife

We argue over the Rothko

in the museum. I say it

looks like the inside of

Reprise For A Memory, Askold Skalsky

Bryant Literary Review

--after Donald Justice

I ask you to come back now as you were in October,

elegant, lithe, the auburn hair upswept with a topknot of tulle.

Running Out, J. S. Kierland

Bryant Literary Review

When the deep shadows finally came in he sprung out of a cluster of junipers and made a run for the mountain's stark cliffs.

Shell, Sean Thomas Dougherty

Bryant Literary Review

For to forget him was to forget what was, which was, of course, she thought, a kind of beginning in itself, like an egg.

The Covenant, Doug Ramspeck

Bryant Literary Review

Her flowers are dying in the old clay pot.

Her tomato vines are withering.

For My Mother Who Has Never Been To Cape Cod, Carla Panciera

Bryant Literary Review

Bayside, the water sluices in.

A clump of seaweed, frilled and green

September Light, Connie Harrington

Bryant Literary Review

Switch off the lamp at the top of the stairway, as dusk calls you to the armchair at your window,

Untitled, Kiki Denis

Bryant Literary Review

i always thought we melt in years but now i know

we melt in space