Welcome to the February Issue, Issue 27.6 of Cider Press Review. In this issue of Cider Press Review, we search for a blueprint to
It’s very cold in the poem. All I have is the rhythm of my legs—spondaic—with an italic of gimp. And some mud. God might
Each year in February, sometimes in December, the trees are infected with parasitic icicles, the sky is painted a weatherproofed grey; and it is