by Joe Engel I turn off the lights in this bedroom to float like a branch. My limbs water-log and I slowly sink. Cars pass outside while drivers glide along the black channels of asphalt, thoughts ushered from point A, to point B, hurried to where they can uncage the poor treatment they received at…

Here is a little poem I wrote about the curiosity I had over a butterfly which appeared one afternoon in the middle of summer, dead, just outside our screen door. Its wings were spread to show its bright pattern. I don’t know how it died, and it led me to wonder about insects dying in…

by Joe Engel Who often had bruises blooming on her her arms, rouge over bruises on her face drives  as though the road grinds through her. Her hair wisps like tail pipe smoke in the open window. The lines on her face ask the highway  to last a whole journey. There was a man  who…

Here is a story about meeting neighbors for the first time. By Joe Engel The rocks embedded in the top step of the porch to my duplex were getting uncomfortable on my ass, and I wanted to make something happen. It was Friday, and my divorce was finalized a few days before. But there was…

Before you read the poem, I would like to say hello to all the readers out there. I am honored to have this residency and to have the opportunity to share my work with you. I live in Kenosha, WI and have also lived in Madison, WI and La Crosse, WI. I was the Kenosha…