Barbara Crooker’s ( most recent poetry collection is More. She lives in Fogelsville, Pennsylvania.

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by Barbara Crooker 12-01-2011

The amaryllis bulb, dumb as dirt, inert, how can anything spring from this clod, this stone, the pit of some subtropical, atypical, likely inedible fruit?

Hard Bop

by Barbara Crooker 06-01-2005

It’s a sweet June day, and the mockingbirds
are singing, as are the rubber tires of cars
on the road, and both of these sounds reverberate,
echo, the jazz of early summer, with the muffled
percussion of wind in the trees. A crow
twangs and plucks his big black bass,