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To Theia, by Ann K. Schwader (9/28/09)
Poetry.
That we are shattered creatures, / our sacred texts assure us, but not why
In the Burned Places, by Ann K. Schwader (6/29/09)
Poetry.
we wait in vain for the asteroid / its aeon come round at last.
Conflict Carbon, by Ann K. Schwader (5/11/09)
Poetry.
unutterably blue / as that sad legend's skies, the shattered hue / of starlight failing
Maya Blue (at Chichen Itza), by Ann K. Schwader (8/25/08)
Poetry.
Above us in the silence yet to come, / deep thunder speaks -- then lightning-axes fall
Given to the Frost, by Ann K. Schwader (12/10/07)
Poetry.
Given to the frost our fragile cities / bright with banners, dance, & brilliant song / offered up in sunlight.
Why We Left, by Ann K. Schwader (10/8/07)
Poetry.
The breath of chaos / Howled there like a solar wind / Too strong to ride, too wild to trust:
If Cold Is a War, by Ann K. Schwader (5/14/07)
Poetry.
If cold is a war, it was forced upon us
Dead Light, by Ann K. Schwader (1/8/07)
Poetry.
As it happened, the star she wished on burned
Spiral Scream, by Ann K. Schwader (9/25/06)
Poetry.
Was this what you heard, Edvard Munch, / in that moment / when vision shrieked like a mad sunflower
Abductee: Two Sonnets, by Ann K. Schwader (6/5/06)
Poetry.
It started with her coffee—
On Any Given Midnight, by Ann K. Schwader (6/20/05)
Poetry.
These stars will never shine so bright / as they do now. Our future lies / darker & lonelier every night.
Ossuary, by Ann K. Schwader (3/28/05)
Poetry.
entombed by accident or failed escape / from orbit, he is otherworldly tall
Rich & Strange, by Ann K. Schwader (12/13/04)
Poetry.
When they come back from the stars, we will not know them.
Minions of the Moon, by Deborah P. Kolodji & Ann K. Schwader (8/30/04)
Poetry.
crescent grins / halfway to the horizon / minions of the moon
It Wears You, by Ann K. Schwader (8/19/02)
Poetry.
No doubt the cyborg lifestyle has its thrills. . . .
Slouching Towards Entropy, by Ann K. Schwader (1/7/02)
Poetry.
Not clean light, after all: not sweet atomic / absolution of our myriad sins / in one swift Lenten smear of ash, faint thumbprint / shadow on a shattered concrete sky.
Deconstructing Night, by Ann K. Schwader (9/17/01)
Poetry.
That one is sane & holy in our sight, / the other neither, merely seems to be / (on close analysis) a privileged view / of questionable worth.

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