Reviewed by Jamie Lorenzen In the opening stanza of the title poem of her second book of poems, Michelle Meyer’s ostensible trouble with being
A rumpled coat of a man taps his toes against the legs of a cramped corner table. He has circles of sweat under his
Fountain County, Indiana December 14, 2021, 5:00 a.m. Located on Myaamia land Walking out into deep country dark, the sky, black silk, the stars’
Looking up at the sky, I remember Earth doesn’t stand still, calm and reassuring, a garden in Abinger Hammer, with afternoon tea and hedgerows,