Creative Writing Commons^™

Owl, Joe Survant

Bryant Literary Review

The owl glides in

on secret wings,

silent as a leaf flush.

He knows the quick

motives of chipmunks,

the intimacy of mice.

Editor's Note

Bryant Literary Review

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Contributors

Bryant Literary Review

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The Widow Of War, Jon Mccolgan

Bryant Literary Review

Before allure began to pour

out of her sore onto the floor

she stored the door to her heart's core

beneath the boards of her store's floor.

The Snow Moon, Rebecca Lilly

Bryant Literary Review

A full moon sheared the tip of a pine. Lying in bed, a woodsman and

his wife saw it one December night. "Something must be done," said

his wife. "I know it's a sign."

Table Of Contents

Bryant Literary Review

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Horowitz In New York, Tim Bellows

Bryant Literary Review

Precise blocks of keys.

He brushes them

and in the ear's inside chamber,

we hear. His fingers white as a baby. Seems the notes

beam across cold deserts-

and hidden sprigs of grass

think to nose their ways

upward, harboring a thin sense

of yellow warmth despite

the presence of ice.

Billy Moran Stands In His Back Yard, Saying His Prayers Over One Last Glass Of Bourbon, Michael Scott Cain

Bryant Literary Review

Our Father, thank you for the bourbon,

for the ice cubes, for the way the color

of the booze lightens as they melt,

for the fragrance that prods the senses.

The Reverend Henry Evers Has Been Conducting A Lot Of Funerals Lately., Michael Scott Cain

Bryant Literary Review

The old men are quietly dying.

Each day fewer go to the park

or the Paradise Tavern. The aisles

of the malls are less crowded.

Written On Water, David Thornbrugh

Bryant Literary Review

The man whose smile is a whetstone

excels at kissing knives.

What does the sliced throat say

to the knife that kisses it?

5th Anniversary Edition

Bryant Literary Review

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Same Old, Mary Crow

Bryant Literary Review

The same old story is different with each

re-telling. What did mother say? One of the sisters asserts her truth to the other's

incredulity-- someone has to be right.

Palden Gyatso Comes To Town, Anne Hanley

Bryant Literary Review

I always go to hear

Tibetan monks

Even though

I cannot understand

Their words.

Things Pulled Off Refrigerator Doors, Charles Harper Webb

Bryant Literary Review

That's me in Maui, underneath a tire-sized hat,

pointing surfward as if I've just invented

waves. There's Katie wincing on a fern-

draped ledge, splashed by a mile-high

waterfall.

Touching My Reflection, Michele Heather Pollock

Bryant Literary Review

I peer into a mirror
of last night's rain

In A Field Near Sardis Dam, Louis Bourgeois

Bryant Literary Review

Silence. A scarecrow flickers in the wind.

The corn is dead. Geese speckle the horizon,

followed by crows and herons.

In Oxford Cemetery, Louis Bourgeois

Bryant Literary Review

You thought because

the trees moved

and the stones didn't

The First Seven Pregnant Women I Knew, Jim Daniels

Bryant Literary Review

were teenagers. Some kept the baby. Entered

the desert of marriage, their childhoods

mirages wavering on whispered streets.

Dress Rehearsal For Utopia, Karen Donovan

Bryant Literary Review

We're glad they made Clear Falls.

The white rocks love the water,

the water loves its splash and brim.

A Persistent Error, Dorinda Clifton

Bryant Literary Review

My-Hundred-Year-Old Window

I live on the second floor of an old building. One room, one window. Having only one window keeps me focused on the life I can see within its perimeter.

The Hills Of Laura, Billy Lombardo

Bryant Literary Review

It is true that I hated Hucker Norton. But I did not mean to crush his thumb.

He wasn't one of us, really. Even his name told you he was from some other place. We were Petey and Tommy and Davy and Matty, and he was Hucker.

The Wounded, Dave Cappella

Bryant Literary Review

The one-legged pigeon understands

the loneliness of the man.

Hobbling under the patio table

behind a chair, the bird waits

for a morsel from the stranger.

Title Page

Bryant Literary Review

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Verso

Bryant Literary Review

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It's Simple, Tim Bellows

Bryant Literary Review

Sunday after a short stack

of blueberry pancakes, half a cup

of ginger-and-cream tea,

Dawn Camping, Steven Proulx

Bryant Literary Review

Night slithers off into the horizon

a canvas of ancient pastels in its wake

air is virgin

ground marks no tread

My Grandmother's Slops Bucket, David Thornbrugh

Bryant Literary Review

My grandmother kept a slops bucket

behind a curtain of blue-flowered calico cloth

tacked over the bottom shelf in her kitchen pantry,

America's Most Wanted, Erica Olsen

Bryant Literary Review

I'm coming home from City Market when I spot the other vehicle in my drive.

"Look," I say. "Visitors."

Poem Written In Revlon's "Fire And Ice" Lipstick, Marie Harris

Bryant Literary Review

I secretly wanted to be the girl

you dreamed about as you stood

staring at the phone number

Workout, Dave Evans

Bryant Literary Review

From my lofty indoor bike seat,

facing a bay window, I see a real fly

caught in a metaphorical Lake Michigan