No, we won’t find much comfort here, or words pretty for pretty’s sake. Sheila McMullin scores the flesh of her observations and sears them with ponderous, mostly... Read More

Make no mistake about it, poet, you do the voodoo with life’s confusing doodoo to change it into user-friendly, pharm-grade palliatives to ease troubled minds. And should your... Read More

The poems of "Self-Portrait with Crayon" are haunted. There are no ghosts or goblins lurking, but rather an absent mother and Edgar Degas. The two apparitions seem unconnected... Read More