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Lynne McMahon

Poetry

Summer/ Autumn 1997

October 31

By Lynne McMahon

Loose cowl of shoulderless space,  empty flaps and neck hooks—places for the crêped and aged skin  that isn't there except in dream or dim entryway light, half in  half out […]

Poetry

Summer 1989

Swingset

By Lynne McMahon

Intruding its blue crossbar and stripedinverted V’s across the wash of summer, across birdbath, feeder, cracked stone bench, the swingset breaks this green plane into foreground and back, a horizon […]

Poetry

Summer 1989

Personal History

By Lynne McMahon

Never say what you have, or don’t have, never boast, never ask for help: the instruction in negation was sent out for generations by the Norwegian immigrant farmersin Minnesota and […]

Poetry

Winter 2002

Smoketree

By Lynne McMahon

                 It was exactly as the name implied,            a fall and winter ashy skein, a kind of gray diaphane whose nets could bind                  hoarfrost to light                  to smoky thaw, until all […]

Poetry

Winter 2002

Depression Vacation

By Lynne McMahon

1. Hotel On the famous street where the famous pass by daily,             and the workers on their way to work, important keyed IDs on cotton bands around their necks—             new […]

Poetry

Summer/ Autumn 1997

Augury

By Lynne McMahon

In gray, drizzling, leaf-collecting weather, his sweater, starred with burrs and bits of bark, visibly sags (the oiled weave holding the fog in chains so the wearer is actually wearing […]

Poetry

Summer 1989

Hopkins and Whitman

By Lynne McMahon

Hard to imagine two men more unlike, the one a solitary wrestling in his cell with palpable Doubt, the other striding the continent in great unbooted certainty. And yet there […]