For Jasmine and Rosanna Wyatt and I hit Tako Cheena, a pan-asian taco joint, before the wedding in Orlando. We sit on the patio, eat panko-cod, tofu, and Korean barbecue…
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when you’re loud i don’t know where i am are there people who don’t dream are there people who never sleep are there people who look like me why isn’t…
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It can feel like a labour-intensive process, but I’ve found that there’s huge appreciation, from both the poets and the readers, when effort is made to give the words a beautiful home.
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Just one. Counting if we have enough green tea for both of us until Saturday Just kidding two. Blah is a good way to put it Rinsing black beans and…
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Website Submission Guidelines Interview with Joan Baranow and David Watts, Editors How did Wolf Ridge Press start? Our press started in 2008 when David had put together a collection of…
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In the early months of 2017, we were discussing how often writers of formal or experimental poetry in Canada had to go through a man to publish a chapbook of experimental literature. We wanted to provide a space for writers to publish experimental, formal, political, feminist, or genre-blurring poetry that wasn’t governed by a dude.
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Steve invited me over for Oscar night to represent diversity among his friends Trader Joe’s frozen appetizers spanned the globe from pot stickers to samosas to egg rolls Commentary began…
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Ronald Reagan Was an Idiot (and other observations about my birth year) I was born late. I could give any number of reasons I wanted to stay put. Every birth…
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THE NIGHTLIGHT ANNUNCIATION Last night I dreamed that my front lawn was littered with the bodies of elementary school principals. My instincts tell me this speaks to either the death…
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Small things I admit to after 44 years of finding dirty dishes in the dish drain I’ve decided to stop complaining and put them away dirty when it’s time…
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THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE I am the invisible bridge the bear tiptoes across (Oh, you thought, maybe, he was jumping into the stream?) Wrong! I am the invisible bridge the bear…
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It keeps pouring how the green rain Oh don’t say love rain green Her vigilance her lightning her absence Oh don’t say again how the green rain Pours on oak that drinks it…
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The exegesis of all outside, on the porch Us three in faith agreed life would end in fire, For we began in water—piecing together pieces Of the book we…
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displayed in a grid of squares she is saturated, oblique, a shape bearing no relationship to the smell of a ham sandwich or the night her uncles beat…
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