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Spring Fever Last Sunday in February. Neighbors lean on warm cars. Snow pulls away from the grass. At the corner variety store kids huddle out front, hustle off, scattering baseball card wrappers colorful as April tulips. . —Paul Marion (c) 1984, 2014 .
Read More »Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. . My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse…
Read More »Snow and icy rain are coming tomorrow. On Friday everyone will want to get out, and there’s a great option for Friday night. If you attended the JFK Memorial Concert in Durgin Hall last November, you know how well these musicians play. On top of an impressive program to be…
Read More »Welcome to a new literary contributor to the blog, writer Mark Reimer, who is on the staff at UMass Lowell. —PM . Interior Humbaba’s sixth aura was given to the forests; I read this on the train and note contrails in the sky marking off our path to the…
Read More »On January 29, 1963, Robert Frost, my favorite poet died. Many years ago, in a 9th grade Literature class, a football coach/English Teacher “forced” me to memorize one of his poems ….I thank that man even today, since the poem has been my favorites ever since. I hope you enjoy…
Read More »In the 1980s I played some serious softball with the Burgess Construction team in the Dracut Softball League. “Richie” Burgess, as I knew him, played on some of those teams, including the championship team in 1988. I wrote a poem, “Bragging Rights,” to commemorate that winning season, and following is…
Read More »Jean LeBlanc is an Assistant Professor of English and Developmental Studies at Sussex County Community College in northwestern New Jersey. She was raised in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, and still identifies as a New Englander with pride (especially, as she writes, “being so close to various New York sports teams that shall…
Read More »Our far-flung Western net-desk night editor Tom Sexton, once the Poet Laureate of Alaska and always a distinguished alumnus of Lowell High School, sent this new poem inspired by a work of art he bought from Bill Giavis, a legend at the Brush Gallery in Market Mills downtown.—PM .…
Read More »This week’s rain and thaw are not good for ice on local ponds, brooks, and lakes, but January is hockey season, so I thought I’d dig this composition out of the vault this morning. The poem was first published in my second full-length collection of poems, Middle Distance (1989). Sweeney’s…
Read More »This poem, from Tom Sexton’s recent book Bridge Street at Dusk (Loom Press, 2012), connects to the “Moody Gardens” post below.—PM . Manny He was a minor god of the underworld whose euphonious name brought no reply if mentioned during the day, a lounge singer, a god of sirens and…
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