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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 11, Number 2, June 2017
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Dave Read
Calgary, Alberta, Canada


Blank Verse

Poets fall into one of three groups. There are those who obsess over beauty and peace, yearning to prove their serenity, their holistic communion with the natural world. Call them the florists. Then there are those whose poetry smashes empty bottles, who sound their yawps at the waning moon, feeling more deeply than other people. Call them the drunks. And, of course, there's a handful that fall in the middle. They speak of their children, their mini-vans, their struggles with money, their strides towards that next promotion, how they can never fall asleep. Call them the suburbanites.

So, a florist, a drunk and a suburbanite walk into a bar …

tearing up
as I watch re-runs
autumn mist

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