Chris Dombrowski and is poet and writer who lives in Missoula, Montana. His publications include chapbooks, Fragments with Dusk in Them, September Minatures with Blood and Mars, collections, By Cold Water, Earth Again, and his first nonfiction book Body of Water published by Milkweed Editions. His honors include the Associated Writing Programs Intro Award, Alligator Juniper’s National Poetry Prize, and a runner-up (Earth Again) for Foreword Magazine’s Poetry Book of the Year. His poems have appeared in many literary journals and have been anthologized in Joyful Noise: An Anthology of American Spiritual Poetry (2006),Making Poems (2012), and others.
He caught the singer in his hands before it sang, slick, jumping-like-a-pulse thing in the small cave his palms made, pliable, bird-boned, blinking other before it could join the bark-hugging horde Continue reading
When I saw light the sculptor chiseling sheer bluff from slope — the punk wood landing as shadow in down-mountain saddles, a coarse grit teasing out the basalt’s facelike features, then Continue reading
Submit your own haiku in the discussion area. TO REACH THE HONEY HOLE I have to cross a channel of knee-high, silt-stained river with twenty-month-old Luka, my mushroom-picking partner, on my Continue reading
Like the hair she has waited all day to let down, a shadow unfurls from the Ponderosa’s trunk: a plank one might walk to horizon’s edge, the dark band just stops. Continue reading