Angela Allen

Poetry

Coyote Call

Persuade Raven Wing,
future legendary local,
to yodel the coyote call,
barks so deep in her throat
she might mourn a lost world.
Yet the yip-yip of the pups
trying to keep up,
confuse coyotes with a wicked wind
whipping its broad tail
across the desert prairie. Read More

Poetry

Prayer for Returning, Harney County

The hay-gold light and the green sage will nourish me.
I will see an ibis, with a long neck, for my eyes only.
A crane will toss a stick and lure a faithful mate.
What bliss.

I will miss my son, my cat, and the rattle
of the Brooklyn train yard. Read More

Poetry

Sweet and Sour

This winter I lost
my waist,
my nest egg,
my columns,
our 90-year-old maple
whose tired roots surrendered to relentless storms,
my patience with slumdog renters,
a gazillion arguments,
all of my geraniums,
gallons of tears. Read More

Poetry

Seven Ways of Looking at a Dogwood

A nod to Wallace Stevens, a bow to Basho

Dogwoods turn fecund,
succumb one to another.
Black boughs birthing blooms.

Onward Christian trees.
Eastertime’s righteous branches
blister with crosses. Read More