Current Issue


Editorial Note




Poets on Poetry: Duane Ackerson


Early Warning:
Another Poem On the Way

The paper waits:
perhaps it has something to say
but I'm not sure I do.
The pen complains:
get to the point,
and I try to sharpen my wits
(perhaps this would have gone better
with a pencil?),
gripping that tool for dear life.
The sheet.
The pencil.
The instrument of their torture
or deliverance:
we're all here,
and the muse has been served
with a summons.
The world,
of course,
is holding its breath.


The Writer

When I reached the gate to this life
they handed me my bag of words.
When it's empty, they said,
you get the sack.


“Nobody Reads Poetry”

But, in spite of it all,
poetry still reads the world.


Next Poem



All materials on this site are © 2005. No materials may be copied, reposted, or reused without written consent of their creator(s).