The online literary journal of Greenfield Community College

Gunpowder Green with Jedediah Berry

Gunpowder Green with Jedediah Berry

            A few weeks ago, I sat in the Fresh Side in Amherst, ruminating over the tea choices. Local author and professor of creative writing at Bard College, Jedediah Berry, was meeting me there to talk about writing and his very successful novel The Manual of Detection. I am not...
Running with Dogs

Running with Dogs

    Mid November in the January Hills, hunting ends at sundown. Shotgun season for deer wouldn’t begin for another two weeks, the shortest days and darkest nights of early December. Valerie and Jim drove their mismatched, rowdy pack of dogs into the hills where only the locals hunted, where...
Dad by Wind Chimes by Dad

Dad by Wind Chimes by Dad

Like—who?—a Zennist Who is lit up by a chunk of the mundane— Shinkichi Takahashi eternally burning seeing the baby’s Turd afloat in the communal bath— I’m walking past the greyhounds’ owners’ house When a tinkling chord from their portico Boards me. I am the most stupid For one finger snap,...
Rocket City, USA

Rocket City, USA

My father, a career IBM man, was one of myriad late-1960′s NASA-related personnel contracted in the effort to beat the Russians to the moon, and a few months in “I Dream Of Jeannie”-era Cocoa Beach was just part of the drill. It remains amazing to me how antiquated, yet currently...
Still Life

Still Life

  The mother of all storms is upon us. We are taken aback, our skirts blow up. We show our panties, bad girls all of us, march off to school with our lunch boxes open. Do you want my apple? Do you want my pear? See all the fruit for...
I Love My Beard

I Love My Beard

Officer, I’ve told you exactly what happened. I’ve been here all day and, frankly, I don’t appreciate being treated like a criminal. Now, I’ve answered all your questions, filled out a report, and signed my statement. What more could you possibly want from me? Again? You want me to go...
Ode to the Crumb

Ode to the Crumb

  Speck of cheese, dot of bread, slivered hint of once pie. They stir up our hunger, send a flare down desire’s dark hole, invite us to rise up again from here. A crumb of bird humming contends, hungry, with the bee. Green-back glow and the long beak sneaks into...
GCC's Exquisite Corpse

GCC’s Exquisite Corpse

Among Surrealist techniques exploiting the mystique of accident was a kind of collective collage of words or images called the cadavre exquis (exquisite corpse). Based on an old parlor game, it was played by several people, each of whom would write a phrase on a sheet of paper, fold the...
Latest submissions
Geographical Tongue

Geographical Tongue

  When I was young, my friend said, I have a geographical tongue – and opened wide to let me examine a map cracked deep into pink sponge, roads laid out in the whale-belly of her mouth. At the same time, my fingers would go numb, turn white. I rubbed them like I was referring...
They Are Breaking the House

They Are Breaking the House

shredding the barn, lining up tiny red blue green toy soldiers for sale. The grasses have dried to flame , the stairs are dust and customers roam all the rooms picking up, putting down books and cups, silks and soft eider pillows. Even the mountain beyond the wide back porch is up for sale next...
Suspension

Suspension

    Stormy night: a pallid ant clings to slick fibers of a wind-flayed string. Too dumb to hope, too keen to despair, it pauses mid-string to interrogate the air with antennae restless with autonomy that try to amplify the ant’s economy of movement with electric filigree of panic, rage, anything to shear the monotony...
Bound in Entrapment, A Look At "True Love" by Sharon Olds

Bound in Entrapment, A Look At “True Love” by Sharon Olds

For a full understanding of the following review, read the poem “True Love” by Sharon Olds In the poem “True Love” by Sharon Olds, two lovers are repeatedly shown as being tied to one another. The poem takes place in the moments after the couple finished making love, and at first glance the poem seems...
The Seam

The Seam

  Wind, a branch broken glass, but still cloud on the horizon where a line of people walk bent thick & thin, walk from what they left, but there is no where- they-are-going-to. One foot presses down, hurts or slips, weighs more than can be lifted. Their feet! Cloaks damp, gloves torn. Their feet! Slowly,...
Hunter's Round

Hunter’s Round

  No more than the bird with piercing voice do you stake my heart, the dumb drum that feels its own concentric pain, no more Then the bird with piercing voice stakes a wider, colder claim than yours, to which I’m bound but no more than the bird With piercing voice I stake your name...
Apologie

Apologie

  I am sorry, mi amore Platanus; all the trees hanging over the river on the corner, sweet locust and sycamore marching up the steep stream bed to escape the rising tide. I didn’t save you when propane tanks, popping up like otters, played in the river’s current. I didn’t rescue your cousin, Acer, either...
Magnetic Poetry

Magnetic Poetry

O'Pear

O’Pear

The children ignore you submissively waiting in place in the sunny kitchen. They skip past you, an ornament in a bowl. The father, on the other hand, from the instant he lays eyes on you, leers hungrily at your buxom figure and blushing skin. He would like to unpeel you with his mouth beginning at...