English Language and Literature Commons^™

The Remnants Of Hurricane Bill Newport, Ri, Kate Mele

Bryant Literary Review

We didn't expect the rain and with it

the scent of night jasmine rolling up

Alchemy, Peggy Ann Tartt

Bryant Literary Review

At some point in any conversation

a door appears.

Greatness, Charles Harper Webb

Bryant Literary Review

It came easy, then--winning big at Chinese

checkers--finding, behind a slab

Outside Leadville, Emily Morganti

Bryant Literary Review

I thought we would die on that mountain. Not in my heart but in my head.

For The First Time, Joanna Noble

Bryant Literary Review

Alone and snow-bound you learn

the bones of your home as they keen

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

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.

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.

It's Simple, Tim Bellows

Bryant Literary Review

Sunday after a short stack

of blueberry pancakes, half a cup

of ginger-and-cream tea,

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.

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?

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.

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."

The Hospital Ships, Carmine Sarracino

Bryant Literary Review

They might have freighted dry goods--

blouses and trousers, spools of bright

gingham-- from ports to upriver towns.

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.

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.

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.

Homage To Montale, Baron Wormser

Bryant Literary Review

This morning

The hummingbird's

Pure zigzag

Surprises you.

The indifference to

The long steps

Of your mood.

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.

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.

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.

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."

Contributors

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No abstract provided.

In Oxford Cemetery, Louis Bourgeois

Bryant Literary Review

You thought because

the trees moved

and the stones didn't

Title Page

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.

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

5th Anniversary Edition

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.