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Word Fountain

The Literary Magazine of the Osterhout Free Library

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Literary Magazine

Marilyn Pocius Shelton, Spring•Summer 2017

Anthracite
A Trilogy
Marilyn Pocius Shelton

1.

I hoist my hems for the devilish descent
Down where no bone reaches save my pen

I chisel by inches with the image of a pick
Picture of an axe, auger seen in no one’s eyes
But mine

Grandpa, when you lay down in a chink
Of coal, did you see your mother’s eyes
Rimmed with tears as she waved good bye
Rooted in her Lithuanian soil?

2.

Settling Accounts

After you pay for your carbide Continue reading “Marilyn Pocius Shelton, Spring•Summer 2017”

Harold Jenkins, Spring•Summer 2017

Double Dig
Harold Jenkins

Break the surface with the pitchfork
shave off the sod with the spade
Five feet wide, fifteen feet long

Dig out the first row
one foot down, one foot long
put it in the wheelbarrow

Add compost to the trench
loosen the soil with the fork
try not to think about you

Dig out the second row
toss it Continue reading “Harold Jenkins, Spring•Summer 2017”

Word Fountain, Listed and Reviewed

The editors are happy to announce that Word Fountain has appeared on this week’s list of new arrivals in the Magazine Stand at the superb writers’ resource New Pages. And we are thrilled to share with you a lovely and thoughtful review of our current issue by New Pages editor Katy Haas. Read the whole review here. We were first listed last year on New PagesBig List of Literary Magazines, so we’re delighted to have our Spring•Summer 2017 issue Continue reading “Word Fountain, Listed and Reviewed”

Libby Copa, Spring•Summer 2017

Silver Skin
Libby Copa

They press upward against the currents
to make small eddies with slow movements
(a quiet disturbance on the water) Continue reading “Libby Copa, Spring•Summer 2017”

David Athey, Winter 2017

Summer Dusk
David Athey

Summer dusk in Minnesota seemed like it would last until midnight, as if Alaska were just around the corner, and we often pretended that we were Eskimos and the small green lawn was open water between glaciers, and we sat in a wrecked canoe behind my dad’s shed, whispering about killer whales and killer storms and killer invaders from the unknown; and when Todd’s mom opened the door of their trailer to call him home, Continue reading “David Athey, Winter 2017”

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