selected past writing at 42opus


Meditation for Everything We Have Loved by JOSHUA POTEAT

What do you love the most?

      Say the reddish work of death

as it strolls through the fields…

2 March 2004 | poetry, editors' select


Prayer from Devotion XVII. Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morieris. by JOHN DONNE

As death is the wages of sin it is due to me; as death is the end of sickness it belongs to me; and though so disobedient a servant as I may be afraid to die, yet to so merciful a master as thou I cannot be afraid to come; and therefore into thy hands, O my God, I commend my spirit…

15 October 2010 | poetry, classic, prose poem



She can only imagine cars

on the highway. Thinks they must glint like boats

on a blue harbor. She can only imagine boats

on a blue harbor.

27 May 2006 | poetry


Antibodies by ALLAN PETERSON

Sick maybe, and if so yes for home, but not homesick,

that place where vast pastures continue as horizons—

but scared, and hoping as in a game with friendly players

they let you take back a wrong move. That something…

2 December 2002 | poetry


A Large Man and His Family by SARAH VAP

A deck of cards on the corner. A sun led steadily away; no better for it. Sitting around in paper gowns. In deep study.

2 December 2003 | poetry, prose poem

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