Been meaning to share. This is a personal favorite, and I’m proud to have it at Bandit Fiction.
In the summer, when school was over, we picked mulberries in the yard and spun in circles on the grass. It was soft and living, warm on our bare feet, and every day the sun was lightening your hair. Your mom, she was playing Brian Wilson, and we listened to his brothers intervene.
In the summer, when we were older, we smoked kreteks in the street and the road between your mom’s house and the lake was painted by the moon. It was grey and broken, a hubcap glinted in the switchgrass cracking through the shoulder. Our friends, almost at the water, crashed and laughed against the tyranny of neighbors.
In the fall, when you had gone, I struggled doing pull-ups in the doorjamb, and the attic smelled like pine and lemon. I was thinking of all you’d written on the blue path of my forearm on the gray road to the lake the pale night you first squared the pattern of my breathing and began the long division of your forehead and my shoulder.
I discovered And Other Poems today via Twitter. It’s a very well done project.
And Other Poems opened to new submissions in November in a sort of relaunch. I don’t know exactly when their window closed, but we’re only halfway through December, so it couldn’t have been too very long ago.
They share that over 200 poets submitted over 700 poems in whatever the relatively short time frame was. Some new journals get less, some get more. Long-established venues get many, many more. Still, any way you look at it, 700 is a lot of poems. Reading them and giving them the right attention is a lot of work. No doubt a passion project.
Across the literary world, thousands of editors this past year have collectively read, what, probably millions of pieces? Mostly as volunteers. Mostly because they believe in the power and beauty and necessity of words. They believe their work and the work of the writers they publish matters and makes a difference. Thank you, editors, publishers, laborers of love. You make all of this happen.