Teetle Clawson
Teetle Clawson lives with her husband in Santa Cruz, California, and has started writing poems after two long careers: the first as a visual artist and art educator for at-risk children and young adults; the second as cofounder and CFO of a high-tech medical company.
Culled
It was too quiet: no bellowing of elk, no call of owls. As I opened the front door, I could smell the beef stew I’d left simmering on the stove, but there was no music, and our dog Neva did not greet me.
March 2022Three Seasons
In the early seventies / Greg and I moved back to the land. / Here, no National Guard, no protests / on the steps of Bank of America, / no hash to smuggle into Isla Vista.
July 2015Kitchen Ghost
My husband killed himself in our kitchen, / a wide-open room with a forty-gallon barrel / of water standing close to the old woodstove.
October 2013Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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