Tag Archives: M. J. Iuppa

            ~ Glencar Valley, Ireland, 2019 Fog in the valley, then searing sunlight. A bouncy lane to a glacier lake. Water without wind, a slow-moving sky. Remote—impression of Alps—a raven watches us—glistening in this vastness. M. J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection … Continue reading →

            Not yet mid-March, and it’s sixty-four degrees, I can hardly contain my desire to stop at the side of the road & walk empty-handed over old ties, over tracks that separate gravel lots from beaches to stand before Ontario’s chilly … Continue reading →

In your hands, the scissors snip with a precision that is and isn’t exact. My silver curls fall away from my head in slow motion and tumble down the length of my body, falling beneath my kitchen chair that sits on … Continue reading →

I want to pass time in bed with its mess of quilts and pillows & luxury of breakfast—toast, I presume—and brewed coffee, and an egg, soft- boiled, poised in its porcelain cup; and the daily news with its debate and … Continue reading →

By virtue that’s inherent—a pursuit of happiness—he tells me, the garden is set to grow in thirteen raised beds. We wait, wanting the best of everything, but in our own bed, we doubt what we have done. All night, silence … Continue reading →

Rising in morning’s half-shadows, in the purr of rain caught in the back of the gutter’s throat, I gather ripe tomatoes sitting in flats on the porch and bring them in to be processed in the steamy kitchen where pots … Continue reading →