Sleeping Late on Inauguration Day, 2017

Dreams refuse to wake with us. They prefer the easy rewrites of sleep to the alarms and showers of daily routine. And who can blame them? The noise of this daylight, its empty oaths, grind so hard into the skull, the persistent weight of my own head against the pillow makes that weightless world a… More

Joe Weil’s “The Great Grandmother Light”

The Great Grandmother Light, Joe Weil NYQ Books, 2013. 978-1935520801 Joe Weil is an assistant professor of poetry and fiction at Binghamton University at both the graduate and undergraduate levels. In 2013, NYQ Books published Weil’s New and Selected Poems, The Great Grandmother Light. Its poems span over 3 decades and contain a breadth of… More

Micah Towery’s “Whale of Desire”

Michael T. Young Whale of Desire, Micah Towery Redux Consortium: Cat in the Sun Press, 2013, 978-0991152315 Micah Towery is an adjunct professor at Indiana University South Bend. Whale of Desire is his debut poetry collection. It is also the debut collection of Cat in the Sun Press, and a quite good one at that.… More

Salting Our Hungers

Michael T. Young I have a sweet tooth but the other thirty-one are savory. So I sugar the moment but salt the day, as a precaution against the hundred ways the mind fails. It’s where time decays, trying to extract the details of how I ran through corn fields, outdistanced the farmer, the way stalks… More

My Jersey City

Michael T. Young The sun rises from trees, its light pooling under the leaves. But only for a moment, then the wind shakes it loose, glinting along rails as a train pulls out from Journal Square passing a recess in the granite trench where a ginkgo twists like a dancer of green grace fixed in… More


Michael T. Young I keep believing in the fresh start, keep turning back as if to begin, but there’s no going past the push of hunger. As a child, I filled jugs at a natural spring, my hands rich with the scent of moss, the rocks gurgling, the smell of wet soil saturating the air… More


Michael T. Young He likes to repeat to himself a phrase from a Keats letter: I will clamber through the clouds and exist. It steadies him like leaning against trees, or brewing coffee to a thick brown resistance. It’s that kind of private refusal that helps him push on, dress the children for sleep, clean… More


Michael T. Young Page 129 of “The Red Book” by Carl Jung Even in the smallest village there was always someone who believed, the one who watched while the town slept and over the dark roofs, every night, studied the vacuums spanned by desire and called out to his star. Time uncoiled itself like a… More


Michael T. Young I learned that in an interview to enter Oxford they might ask how you would describe infinity, and I thought about once being asked how I would describe a paperclip to an alien, that is, to someone who’s never seen one. It was a writing exercise that made me think of how… More