White Whale Review: An Online Literary Magazine Untitled Document
Gregory Lawless
Gregory Lawless is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and the author of I Thought I Was New Here (BlazeVOX). His poems, reviews and interviews have appeared in or are forthcoming from  Artifice, Best of the Net 2007, Cider Press Review, The Cortland Review, Drunken Boat, H_NGM_N, The Hollins Critic, InDigest, La Petite Zine, Sonora Review, Tarpaulin Sky, Thermos, Third Coast, Zoland Poetry and others. He was nominated for a Pushcart in 2009 and 2010.  He teaches literature and writing as Suffolk University.

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Gregory Lawless



Asters. And piles


of flat stone

by the failed wall


and fans of yellow



near patches

of cocklebur.


Blur.   Sere.


I see nothing

clearly here.



my migrainous mother

pours cold water


onto a washcloth

and lies down


Gregory Lawless

for an hour. Will

the same thing


happen to my



years later?


So many

                dark rooms.


So many such

hours. Here


all the neighbor dogs

come and piss


on this

tractor wheel


and one, hoar-faced,


with a dripping



Gregory Lawless

bad blue eye,


sniffs the shattered

grass there


and moves on. Good half-gone


dog. He falls


asleep in the velvetleaf


while a grackle

the color of an oilspill


flies over the hay–fever


fields to light on the slack

garden gate.


Dry late


spring. So strange,

these things I’m given



Gregory Lawless

to hate: hornsettle

and homecoming, burn drums


in shabby backyards, other people’s


kids slapping


their voices

across the field.


Now my mother


gets up for a glass

of water.


I hear the faucet

voices through


the screen

and the scream


of weed whackers

down the street.



Gregory Lawless

Do you love it

here? she asks.


I love it

some, I say.


My daughters


throw rocks

in the woods


and I call them back

and they do not come.










Copyright © Gregory Lawless. White Whale Review, issue 3.1

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