The sound of a tremulous future in Kathleen Willard’s newest collection of poems
Tim Z. Hernandez’ hybrid memoir investigates untold stories of lost loved ones and his own family
A preview of Halchita Red
An interview with poet Harriet Stratton, introducing her debut chapbook Ear to the Ground
A bedtime story, a geology primer and the untold tale of a dinosaur bone hunter
A review of The Afterlife of Mal Caldera
Exploring humanity’s relationship with water in Water Bodies
While Marissa Harwood was born in Omaha, Nebraska, she moved to Colorado when she was four days old and considers herself a native. She grew up in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains and spent much of her childhood camping, hiking and building forts in the woods. She earned a BA in English and a Secondary Teaching License from the University of Colorado at Boulder. Later, she attended Western Colorado University and earned an MFA in genre fiction. She has taught English at three K-12 schools and two Colorado colleges. Currently, she lives in Greeley, where she teaches high school, plays with her daughter (a true CO native) and reads a lot of books. She hopes to earn a doctorate in the near future.
coming storm marks each month of a year in poems. Like Matsuo Basho, the traditional haiku master, Colorado Springs-based poet and teacher Dave Reynolds invokes images of the natural world and seasons. Beginning with January, he reflects upon snow laden scenes, deer in moonlight and impending storms. His family is often the subject. Coffee and spouse’s moods percolate; arguments pave paths like an avalanche. February speaks to resolutions and the pull of unbreakable habits. Yet those moments are erased in a blanket of white, their marks only visible once feet leave a Hansel and Gretel trail. Spring begins with reflections on the past and wordplay: “another year / another columbine shooting / up through the dirt.” Here, Reynolds remembers April 20, 1999, and the Columbine High School mass shooting. He, too, is a high school educator, Chair of the English department at Fountain Valley School in Colorado Springs. In his haiku, he educates his reader, remembering past losses masked in the colors of mountain flowers. Reynolds canters into hopeful summer: “the fog lifts / one by one / horses on the prairie.” He steps outside the indoor classroom to open space. Meadowlarks trill, dandelion seeds blow in the wind and fireflies glow like what once was. As summer fades, sometimes life does too. Reynolds learns by “letting go” those memories, just as he breaks with traditional haiku in both syllable count and topic. Dave Reynolds uses humor, sadness, nostalgia and love to animate his delicate haiku. He dedicates his collection to the women in his life, as well as haiku writers and readers—those that inspire him and keep the art form alive today. — Shelli Rottschafer
