In this issue of Cider Press Review, winter blows in—for better or worse. In Jennifer Phillips’ “A Sort-Of Happy Holiday,” a lonely day is
And no vicious freeze or blowing snow. Poem free of hints of birds—tube of sunflower seeds, a fallen block of suet. There’s no
A rumpled coat of a man taps his toes against the legs of a cramped corner table. He has circles of sweat under his