God is reclining on his swivel chair in some mid-century Heaven, stoned out of his gourd. God is listening to the same record on repeat. He didn’t even have to buy it at the store’s discount rack because obviously He is God. Everything in His room is Upper Case. The bookshelves of Millennia, the ceiling […]
Alicia Hoffman
Originally from Pennsylvania, Alicia Hoffman now lives, writes, and teaches in Rochester, New York. She holds an MFA in Poetry from the Rainier Writing Workshop and has authored three collections, most recently ANIMAL (Futurecycle Press). Her poems have been published in a variety of journals, including Thrush, Radar Poetry, Trampset, The Night Heron Barks, Tar River Poetry, The Penn Review, Glass: A Poetry Journal, One Art, The Shore, and elsewhere. Find her at: https://www.aliciamariehoffman.com
The Beauty of Evacuated Form
A daffodil’s heavy bloom just fell like a leaded weight into the cold earth. Northeastern spring, one can expect such a thing. The forecasters all intuit snow. Mid-April, and I am alone with my husband in our backyard. I would like to suggest meaning without moving into […]