kingsoftrain

As If
poems, Anna Meister
Glass Poetry, 2018

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“…I have given myself permission to be

a monster in little ways.” -Anna Meister

As if thumb wars are underway in some temple where the many seek the blessing of forgetfulness, poet Anna Meister tasks the written word to offer a oneness by which a reader can map the interior of any lateness a person may come to in order to dwell upon things unnamed. With its full-bodied interruptions and without decoration, As If is a restorative condemnation commemorated by the local uplift of its verse. It creates, in form, a ghosted extra and summons answer from the echo of its ask. As these are entries of where that give a future to when, the work itself becomes a telling that grows in the story, that speaks to remain untouched.

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reflection by Barton Smock

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book is here:

T. M. Strong comes from a small train town in New Mexico where rainstorms are precious and ravens build nests in sandstone crevices. A graduate of the Alpha Young Writers Workshop, she is currently studying Creative Writing at a small arts college.

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Tiger-Ghost

The tiger pushes open the door after dusk,
flat head pressing into wire-brushed wood.
She slinks, calloused pads rasping against the floor.
A ghost. She appears behind you in the kitchen
where you have stirred the stew:
four to the right
three to the left to make seven, stretched out
to luck. Look,
her eyes, reflected in the steel pot, are gold, ochre,
last night’s sunset you think she watched from the railing
of a highway bridge. You step carefully across
the bloody, sticky tracks she left on the floor to set the table.
In winter, she brings snow.
In autumn, muddy twigs,
like wands, you line up on…