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Articles by Sandra Meek
Massachusetts Review
Table of Contents Introduction “WHAT’S PAST IS PROLOGUE,” an essay by Jim Hicks THE REGIME OF TRUTH and SHAMEPROOF, poems by Carolann Caviglia Madden ELEGY AT AN IMMINENT END, a poem by Mark Spero WOOL GATHERING, a poem by John Sibley Williams ARTEMISIA TRIDENTATA, a poem by Anna Leahy DREAM A HIGHWAY BACK, a hybrid piece by Arro Mandell GRANDPA’S DETROIT #2, a poem by Raphael Jenkins YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T HELP IT, WHO YOU ARE, an essay by Sejal Shah MAGA HAT, V., a poem by Sandra Meek CAN...
Dream Nest by Dana Levin - Poems
Aerie, a two-ton nest. Adolescent pines snapped to kindle the crotch of a greater tree's looming a fledgling iced and powdered shore. Destination is warren and hunt—the quivering kit, the river's silver quickening; destiny the ginned field unfurling bolt run to stop. The shadow descending. Rising to that forked holding: three gray hooks, all fuzz and wide eyes and eager bobbing necks craned toward a sky steeling to Mother above them: that great beak, all it brings down.
Parallax Ghazal
Sandra Meek has published six books of poems, most recently Still, named a “New & Noteworthy Poetry Book” by The New York Times Book Review.
Still, With I - Believer Magazine
I Girl inscribing in night lightning’s sizzling trill, whittling in pitch this bright wiring, its divining stick’s split kindling his witching wick, his birdish ribs, wish’s thin fit; girl, this wild which births limb twining limb will still spirit chill, flirt’s flit stilling II in flint.
On Home and Migration: Two Poems, by Brenda Delfino
Photo collage courtesy of the author El Matador after Argentina’s World Cup Victory in 1978 La Patriacomes dressed in multiple costumes, during the “Dirty War” it wore the colors of the flag, came in the shape of a man carrying the nation’s emblem over his heart, trotting gloriously into the stadium filled with white and blue confetti falling down like holy water sanctifying the ground.
Giorgio de Chirico’s Shadowed Geometry by Judith Baumel
Georg Rafisch, “headless,” 2015 / Flickr When I lived in the Trastevere neighborhood of Rome, I made a point of stopping in San Francesco a Ripa whenever I was running errands. The church houses Bernini’s masterpiece L’Estasi della Beata Ludovica Albertoni. Light and shadows passing through the high hidden chapel windows change throughout the day, and they place the Blessed Ludovica in communication with the city outside as well as with the heavens.
Kill
South Africa, 2008, leaving Kruger June’s winter, ivory-rinsed blue, a wild dog tugs a sock of skin down an impala’s stick-leg penciling skyward one gray hoof— What makes them kneel is their need for leverage, paws tucked in the torso’s broken bowl as they strip the steaming meat, emptying the splayed body to a thin ghost of steam, to hide sack and jutting leg bones, deflated bagpipes, a sprawled marionette— Xenophobia was again the radio word of the day, people still burning on both sides of...
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