By LAURIE ROSENBLATT
To settle while trying to say what cannot be said
precisely. As in. We were not entirely finished.
So. Love. To travel the slick road we scattered with salt. To try
to leave our sweepings under the rug. Moments
April 2016 Poetry Feature
This month we welcome new contributors Sria Chatterjee, Marc Vincenz, and Laurie Rosenblatt, and we’re happy to publish new work by Ned Balbo once more.