6.02 / February 2011


listen to this poem

I was com
You said you would wai

Twelve hundred miles in a day –
I counted houses, then their ligh

Came home to an empt
Not even my shir
my green shir

Are you wearing it now?

It’s hot, the house is hot; the walls,
even the handle on the refr

What the f
What can anyone hope to keep?

If either of us could answer,

Brendan Constantine is a poet based in Los Angeles. His work has appeared in numerous journals, most notably Ploughshares, Ninth Letter, ArtLife, The Cortland Review and RUNES. His collection, Letters To Guns, was released in 2009 from Red Hen Press. He is currently poet-in-residence at The Windward School and Loyola Marymount University Extension. In addition, Mr. Constantine regularly conducts workshops in hospitals, foster care centers, and with the Alzheimer’s Poetry Project.
6.02 / February 2011