2017 Paddock Review Pushcart Prize Nominations:

The Paddock Review

Congratulations to the following poets:

·       Bryan D. Dietrich for the poem “THE RIFT”

·       Vincent Francone for the poem “Mud”

·       Stephen Page for the poem “The Cycle of Things On Santa Ana and Everywhere”

·       Laurel S. Peterson for the poem “THE MYTHOLOGY OF SEAWEED”

·       Shana Ritter for the poem “Divisions”

·       Maryfrances Wagner for the poem “Eye Tests”

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haiku and senryu by Stephen Page on the zen space

haiku and senryu by Stephen Page on the zen space

Stephen Page

in a vacant lot
among broken red bricks
shaded sparrows sing


mocking bird calls
from a thick evergreen bush –
a sparrow steers clear


the car almost empty –
the boy slouched across from me
spitting out rap tunes


sunday evening –
so long
between trains


sitting on a train
wishing I could smoke –
the horrendous smells

Read those and other poems by select writers here:


Fauna by Stephen Page 

Fauna by Stephen Page


Fauna is absent from the wood of late,

I cannot see her from my treestump—

She has lit to trees and burrowed underground

Escaping the face of four-legged Helios.
Cynthia came to me in my tower—

She wore a diadem and sheer short robe

And while I lay naked on my carpet

She straddled me with her sandaled calves.



Rosemary outside my matera window

Scents the sough of Delphi’s cloud

Buzzed northerly by the bumblebee

Brandishing his long red clover tongue.



Diana was once a lover of mine

That flew with me to California

And shotgunned in my rusty Volkswagen

But did not vacate my New York studio.



After four long years of living with Helen

And never touching barefoot Delos

Artemis leaned over fresh cut grass

With sunburnt face and parchment lips.



Published on #NorthOfOxford #helios #fauna #delphi #rosemary #diana #helen #helena #delos #artemis

Woman in Purple Shirt by Stephen Page







woman in purple shirt

pointing out tulips–

children clinging to her legs


published on brass bell which is curated by Zee Zahava




Review copies

Stephen has a limited # of review copies for literary magazines, newspapers,reading clubs, and book-bloggers. Inquire in post comments or in Comments Page. Note your website, please.

#bookReviewCopies #bookClubs #readingClubs #literaryMagazines #literaryZines #bookReviewers #bookBloggers #newsPapers #cultureSections #artsSections #editors

Mong Lan Sets A Ranch Bordering the Salty River to Music

Mong Lan sets A Ranch Bordering the Salty River to music (sets it on her piano).
#aRanchBorderingTheSaltyRiver by Stephen Page published by Finishing Line Press. Cover photo by Patrick Lemoine. Cover design by Elizabeth Maines McCleavy.
#ranching #story #stories #novel #poetry #novelInVerse

The Excuse Maker by Stephen Page

“The Excuse Maker,” by Stephen Page as published in “Unbridled III” by Red Dashboard LLC Publishing.
The Excuse Maker

By Stephen Page
The tractor was broke

The radio wasn’t working

I didn’t have time

I was sick that day

It was raining

The fence line was under water

The days are too long

The calves are being born now

The cows have screw worms

The horses have parasites

The horses are tired.

There is always a reason

for not completing a task,

but the tractor works when

you need it to haul firewood

to your hearth. You are healthy

on the weekends, and gone, the wild

horses, you don’t want to break.

You are the Saboteur, the Silent Tractor

Mechanic, you quit when the Tattler belittled

you, but returned after he was fired, saying

he was in the wrong. Now you mope, stumble,

ride around caped in black. You spread disease,

plague, encephalitis, the Red Death.

maybe the Tattler told a dark truth.

This hot spring afternoon I removed a vaccination

from the fridge. I immunized the other

employees. You, I will cure, or eradicate.

You will not epidemic the endemic.

At least you are not ingratiative

like the Tattler, though I know

you have a silver-fox face. You

may run the canals at night,

but I see you, in the moonlight.
*This poem published in the anthology Unbridled III, by Red Dahboard LLC Publications

Available here: https://www.amazon.com/Unbridled-III-Red-Dashboard-LLC/dp/153932639X

#stephenPage #redDashboardPress #unbridledIII

thanks to www.rita-anderson.com, #Zavia Willis  http://derrickpaulson.weebly.com, #ianAustin, http://www.shakespearetheatre.org/blog/poets-are-present-andrew-jarvis/http://www.freedomchevalier.com

The Philosopher Savant

North of Oxford



Review by Stephen Page


In the first poem of the book the narrator, as a young boy, skips church and wanders the countryside, discovering new truths, learning he is able to think for himself, coming to his own conclusions about himself and the world, and finding out he is not bound by non-secular dogma. This is where the Philosopher Savant comes into being.

The book follows the remembrances, dreams, fears, evaluation, assessments, and vision of the Philosopher Savant. He is an average person, a father, a householder with a job—but he has a vagrant soul and the fugue vision of a shaman.

Larson writes in the veins of Whitman and Shakespeare. Some of his poems read as contemporized sonnets, and they have as much genius entwined as Shakespeare’s.  While reading the poems, I had a feeling of transcending my self, a oneness with the “all”. The thesis of…

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Rookery By Traci Brimhall (in honor of International Women’s Day)

Rookery by Traci Brimhall

rookery2Series: Crab Orchard Series in Poetry

Paperback: 96 pages

Publisher: Southern Illinois University Press (October 21, 2010)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0809329972

ISBN-13: 978-0809329977


Review by: Stephen Page

 I was exiting Saint Stephen’s Basilica (a name I am particularly fond of) in Budapest, when, in middle of the church square overlooking the Danube River, I noticed a giant of a man, at least two meters high, dressed in Medieval Knight’s garb complete with a shiny armor breastplate engraved with a Tural.  His head was helmetless, and his hair was long and braided to the middle of his back.  His facial features were not unkind, but his expression was stoic and he looked like he had been in a few brawls in his lifetime. On his extended right arm, roosting on a leather sleeve, was an enormous eagle (which I know now to be a White-tailed Eagle, a species that can attain in maturity15 pounds in weight, 92 inches in length, and 92 inches in wingspan. This bird looked like it was all that and more).  The man turned to us and smiled, not quite an evil smile but more of a condescending smile, and seeming to single me out from the small group I was in (my wife, a couple who were our best friends, and the female tour guide) he began approaching me with determined strides.  Now, granted, this is a vacation I was on, and I was in a tourist-thriving city, and the man was wearing tourist-attraction clothing and had an eagle (by God) on his arm, but if I were in Detroit and were coming out of a restaurant at night and this same man, minus the eagle of course, was wearing a black leather jacket and a knit cap, I might have thought that this was going to be one of those situations where I would have to push my wife and friends behind me and tell one of them to call the police.  Seriously though, he just wanted to know if I would like to take pictures of myself with the eagle, for a small (ha, ha) fee of course.  My wife was trembling next to me and grasping my arm like she wanted to cut off its circulation.  I thought the idea was cool.  He slipped the leather sleeve over my forearm and set the eagle atop it, and my wife and friends began snapping photos of us with a backdrop of the Hungarian Parliament Building.   Pictures to send home to Mom.  I smiled and felt macho with this huge entity of nature on my appendage.  Yes, I was a man, a strong man, and I had this bird symbolic of strength on my arm.  I was one with the eagle.  Our souls were entwined.  It was an extension of me.  Then I looked at the eagle’s claws, which wrapped all the way around my forearm (which is pretty healthy in girth, if I do say so myself), and I thought about what eagles for do with those claws.  They kill things and rip them to shreds.  White-tailed Eagles eat mostly sea fish and cormorants, but depending on the season and how hungry they are, they will eat anything from rabbits to pigeons, snakes, and the hatchlings of other birds. They’ll even eat lambs if they are hungry enough.  From the strength with which the bird gripped my arm and the size and sharpness of its talons, I could imagine this raptor, this element of destruction and death, flying into a tree filled with pigeons, its talons slashing and ripping, zeroing in on the fattest of the rookery, gripping and crushing the life out of the bird, bones cracking, blood splattering, feathers flying, and in the same motion, beating its enormous wings, lifting itself up and out of the tree, its gory prize dangling below, headed off to a cliff kilometers away, to share the freshly-killed meal with its hatchlings, the scent of blood and innards driving the chicks into a feeding frenzy.
            In Rookery, Traci Brimhall’s first collection of verse, the narrator is, metaphorically speaking, a pigeon, and all of her lovers and male figures in her life are eagles.  Brimhall brings to the reading world piercing language and empathic characters.  Her poems rip and tear out your guts.  They feed your intellect.  They stimulate your senses.  To the poetry world, Ms. Brimhall is brought in on wings, as if by a Tural.

Traci BrimhallTraci Brimhall is the author of Our Lady of the Ruins (forthcoming from W.W. Norton), winner of the 2011 Barnard Women Poets Prize, and Rookery (Southern Illinois University Press), winner of the 2009 Crab Orchard Series in Poetry First Book Award.  Her poems have appeared in Kenyon Review, Slate, Virginia Quarterly Review, New England Review, The Missouri Review, and elsewhere.  She was the 2008-09 Jay C. and Ruth Halls Poetry Fellow at the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing and currently teaches at Western Michigan University, where she is a doctoral associate and King/Chávez/Parks Fellow.

Find Rookery on Amazon.

Listen to an interview with Ms. Brimhall on Late Night Library.
Read an interview with Ms. Brimhall on How a Poem Happens.
stephen-page-iiStephen Page is the Author of The Timbre of Sand and Still Dandellions. He holds a BA from Columbia University and an MFA from Bennington College. Stephen writes in a telephone pole-view room in Argentina, that is, when he is not teaching English for bus fare or constructing an elaborate Hot Wheels track around his writing desk. You can find him on the web at this link: htttp://stephenmpage.wordpress.com/author/smpages/