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The Fall

A Poem by Andrew Geary

Outside glows, snow sinksbetween grass bladesI catch a baseball.Priest pushes my handto know the candle’s flame.The red wick watches me fallinto..

Settlers

A Poem by Andrew Geary

The sky is in a fit.The land whispersto the windto shutour flames.And when the sun returns,a few more will have to be buried.This isn’t our land..

November 1st

A Poem by Andrew Geary

There are no more stars--just the lights surroundingthis house. You’re heldby the inflated Santa,the reindeer still grazingthe powdered grass.Yo..

Waiting at IHOP

A Poem by Andrew Geary

She lost that light,the only thing that shonein Philipsburg, Montana. She’s been awayfor fifteen years, still remembers thembegging her to stay,..

The Dangers of Writing

A Poem by Andrew Geary

I worry about the husky gentlemanthat shot Lennon, not because I fearhe’ll come after me, but because he mightbe reading this poem. Some bad ide..

The Son Writes

A Poem by Andrew Geary

Death is blackenedby white roses orchestratingthe stage for grief.My father wrotethose three lines,before he died.Now I hear them,those lines, once mo..

Each Movement is a Defense (Alt.)

A Poem by Andrew Geary

She has to bethis idea--the assertive voice,the aggression and sass,the decking me twice(reason doesn’t matter)--because each movement is a defe..