Haiku--By Ralph Stott--England

through

the berried holly tree

a mother scolds a child

___________

standing to attention

steel pin through

a poppy petal

___________

above

a scaffolding tower

standing angel

___________

scaling the steps

sounds of

a fiddle

 ___________

facing the cathedral

an apartments line

of bed linens 

___________

Ralph Stott was born in Kent, England in 1957. He is married and has two daughters.  He studied design at the Medway College of Design in the mid-70's. Expressing ideas through the written/visual media, has always interested him. Ralph began to dedicate more time to poetry with The Writers and Poetry Alliance, in particular the 'Stylists' forum, over the last 3 years. He has self published one book called Legends For Lunchtime; a collection of short stories and has a second book pending called The Sounding.

The Color of Laughter--By Elizabeth Howard--United States

The Color of Laughter

It was winter,

and the Creator was sad.

I'll brighten

the bleak earth, he thought.

He filled a bag:

golden sunbeam,

swatch of blue sky,

handful of cornmeal,

shadows of blowing trees,

strands of a girl's black hair,

green pine needles,

red petunia.

He gave the bag

to children who opened it.

A thousand butterflies

fluttered out

and settled in their hair.

The children laughed,

and so did God.

(Based on a Papago myth)

Previously published in Tennessee Voices, 1997-98

Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.

Inseparable--By Marc Livanos--United States

Inseparable

We built our love together,

not knowing any other way.

You filled my heart with kindness

where my love for you will always stay.

The days we spend together

makes my life complete.

Walking hand-in-hand hoping our time

together may never let us miss a beat.

My bedside friend to share images

of what’s gone by and visions of what’s to come.

The comfiest peace of mind knowing

you are by my side until our lives are done.

Always together.

Marc Livanos’ poems have appeared in Straylight Magazine, Poet’s Espresso Review, Stray Branch Magazine, Old Red Kimono, Ship of Fools, Song of the San Joaquin Quarterly and others. His chapbooks “Panhandle Poet - Solitude” and “Panhandle Poet - Second Helpings” are available online at barnesandnoble.com. 

From the Archives—Featuring Isha Wagner

Dear Whispers’ Readers,

It is a joy to travel back into our Whispers’ archives and read poetry from past issues.  Today, I bring to you a gem from our New Zealand friend, who has been with us since 2013.  Isha Wagner’s poetry reaches the soul of readers with her profound and insightful poetry. How often do we hide ourselves in fear that nearly swallows us?  May you all know the Giver.

Congratulations Isha!  It is such a pleasure to honor you today. Thank you for your ongoing support.  Best wishes always.

Sincerely,

Karen O’Leary—Whispers’ Editor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Unseen Giver

(Previously published

at Whispers April 2, 2013

By Isha Wagner

Bread broken in little pieces

Tossed on to green grass

Hiding myself, feasting my eyes

Upon the flocks of birds

As they sweep down to peck

Beautiful wings flutter

On guard for predators

Unaware of the shrouded giver

My sudden movement and they

Soar away, then calm again

And they return

And I wonder if God cares in the same

Way for us, such fearful humans

As we twitch nervously

In the measure of our lives

And we know not the Giver.

Haiku--By Archana Kapoor Nagpal--India

beach walk …

my daughter starts

counting the stars         

_____________ 

housewarming …

in my holy water pot

I hold the first light

_____________ 

unplanned pregnancy

a raincloud grows

bigger and bigger …

_____________ 

  

falling over the waterfall a plummeting rainbow

_____________ 

abortion …

my daughter’s snowman

disappears in the storm

_____________

Archana Kapoor Nagpal is an internationally published author of 6 books so far, and her winning stories are now part of international anthologies. She writes inspirational content for corporate newsletters, websites, blogs and print publications. Her inspirational poems touch every area of a person's life. She enjoys writing Haiku and Tanka as well. Visit her Amazon Author Profile to know more about her.

Blinded by Truth---By Glenda Frazier--United States

Blinded by Truth

Guided by my own truth

I would stumble and fall daily

Bruised by my blinded decisions

Walking down a path I could not see

Trying to find my own way

I wrote down my daily list

I drank my cup of coffee then off I went

Heading straight into a shadowy ditch

Struggling just to get by

Worn down often I cried

So confused I could not relax

Humble and weak I said to God...

"Not my will but your will to be done"

Meditating on God's Word both day and night

Letting Him guide me through my everyday life

No longer blinded by my own self-righteousness

Trusting in God and him alone

Knowing that God's will for me is written in His Word

I see clearly now following my Masters' plan

Glenda Frazier and her husband Andre reside in Pace, Florida.  She has been writing poetry for over 20 years and has finally compiled some of them in her most recent book, Poems that Bleed.  She enjoys writing and spending time with her family and friends.  God has instructed her to share her book of poems as an inspirational tool to witness to the lives of her readers.

Last Poem Written--By Tammy Manikas--United States

Last Poem Written

Memories and visions trapped in her head.

Spreading the feeling she's already dead.

Words would come without any strain.

Allowing her to write through the pain.

Within the ink she will forever hide.

Trying to be free of the darkness inside.

Knowing her destiny is to be alone and lost.

The agony in her words came at a cost.

Most of her life she's been treated unkind.

No longer able the words to find.

Not one feeling of love was ever displayed.

Many times in life she has been betrayed.

Unable to explain her life's tale.

Deciding to live behind the veil.

Her final thoughts in these lines.

Putting down her pen one last time.

Tammy Manikas (ML Poetry) resides in the great state of Michigan. She has been writing since a young age, and has a high interest in music.  Dreams of one of her works being turned into a song to be enjoyed by many.  You can follow her at--https://www.facebook.com/MLPoetry.T.Manikas/    p

Poetry--By Stefanie Bennett--Australia

Word Forest   

And I saw you return in

the dream

I’d not dreamt

_______________

Grand Cross   

The gift from Echo...

a moonlit

letter

_______________

Bent Axis

No quick fix: the human

condition stings

its nettle

_______________

The Grey   

Tethered to the barber-pole:

a long-haired

‘Retriever’

 _______________

Talisman  

May the eye of a dragonfly

always be

upon you

_______________

Stefanie Bennett has published several books of poetry, a libretto

and a novel. Of mixed ancestry [Italian/Irish/Paugusset-Shawnee]

she was born in Queensland, Australia in 1945.

Sweet Blessings--By Christine Tate--United States

Sweet Blessings

I love how the Lord sends me a treat,

unexpected and simple but always sweet...

outside my window I watch deer munch,

enjoying their supper, breakfast or lunch...

while grazing on leaves they perk up their ears,

sensitive to all the sounds they hear...

soon they start moving so gracefully

sampling the berries left on trees.

Together they travel without a care,

because God's provision is everywhere...

I don't have to wait for a big surprise,

sweet blessings pass daily before my eyes!

Christine Tate has been writing since 1994. She's the mother of 3 sons and has 8 grandchildren. She was widowed in 2007 and met her husband Artie, a widower with 6 children & 12 grandchildren, in a nursing facility where their mothers resided. They've been happily married 4 1/2 years. They describe their meeting as "God's divine appt." because of their faith, and the fact that they swore they'd never marry again.

Love and Light--By Karen O'Leary--Your Editor

                 …may you

                                      walk in the light

                                                          be in the light

         By Karen O’Leary                               and share that light

Dear Whispers’ Friends,

It’s been a challenging time with my health so I ask your understanding in the days ahead.  I will do what I can but sometimes it’s just as important to let go.  I have been so blessed by your friendships.

Love and light are the most important gifts we have but they aren’t gifts until we give them away. Thank you all for the love and the light you are to me.

Blessings,

Karen

Undying Love--By Jean Calkins--United States

Undying Love

It was just a homemade valentine

with smudged fingerprints of glue.

The heart had ragged edges

and the arrow wasn’t true.

But it brought a longed-for message

to a lonely grandma’s room.

It brought a ray of sunshine

that chased away the gloom.

It was a caring child’s creation;

thank God she didn’t know

the grimy hands that made it

died just two days ago,

beaten by a father

whose drunken eyes are dry.

Crooked letters say, “I love you.”

Those words will never die.

Jean, at 82, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She published The Jokester, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Many of our Whispers’ contributors were published in various editions. October 2016 was her last issue. 

Tanka--By Pravat Kumar Padhy--India

soot of smoke
meanders all along…
in crowded mass
I miss the softness
of the tender greetings

***** ***** *****

the Berlin Wall
once cemented with pain
the sugar mingles
with the flow of happiness
bonding with homely feeling

***** **** ****

for million years
the mountains in stillness
her remembrance
spells the perennial presence
within vast space of my rocky silence

**** **** ****

Pravat Kumar Padhy hails from Odisha, India. He did his Master of Science and has a 

Ph.D from IIT-Dhanbad. His short poems, haiku, tanka and haibun have appeared in various venues such as Chrysanthemum, Simply Haiku, Red lights, Ribbons, tinywords, Modern Haiku, Lilliput Review, Under the Basho, The Heron’s Nest, Shamrock, A Hundred Gourds, Bottle Rockets, Asahi Haikuist Network, Frogpond, and Acorn. He is a recipient of Editor’s Choice awards, Special and Honourable Mentions. Songs of Love: A Celebration published by Writers Workshop, Calcutta is his latest collection. http://pkpadhy.blogspot.com   

"All Will be Well"--By James D. Casey IV--United States

"All Will be Well"

As rain pours down

In silver streak sheets

Plants seem to long

For its nourishing embrace

Earth's great gift from the sky

Sent to feed and replenish

Giving a sense of tranquility

And reassuring calmness

Letting the world know

All will be well

James D. Casey IV is a published author of two poetry books, and is working on his third that is expected to be published within the next few months. Mr. Casey’s writings have been published in international e-zine’s and on several websites. Poetry Life & Times, Artvilla, Realistic Poetry International, and Poetry Super Highway have him listed in their poet archives. You can find links to his books, social network profiles, and other projects on his website at http://louisianakingcasey.wixsite.com/big-skull-poetry.       

Sylvia--By Michael Todd--United States

Sylvia

I knew myself a Sylvia once,

have not thought of her in days;

I feared I'd not know her long,
because of her rambling ways.

Spent her days in a rocking chair,
no use for the front porch swing;
the glider sat there idly biding,
no joy for a wayfarer, to bring.

My Sylvia grew restless in time,
from lack of attention, I fear;
one day she was heard to say,
"Time to rock away from here."

I had a choice laid out before me,
to pack up or let her leave alone;
I shifted over to that rusty glider,
thinking she's just as good, as gone.

Michael Todd aka Myke Todd has been writing and posting stories and poetry on social networking sites since 2006. He can currently be found at his dedicated poetry site... http://myketodd.blogspot.com/  

Tanka--By Anne Curran--New Zealand

shifting her plants
on the whim
of a spring breeze ...
a woman's privilege
to change her mind
_____________

my camellia tips
pruned back ...
once again I admire
the floating lilac
of my neighbor's sweet peas
_____________

three boy cousins
play together
at their Poppa's ninetieth ...
hoping that each of them
might live to know love
_____________

Anne Curran is a Hamiltonian and New Zealander. She writes in awe and admiration of all those Japanese verse poets and editors who have encouraged her on this journey.

Mount Pleasant Cemetery--By Michael Lee Johnson--United States

Mount Pleasant Cemetery

(Toronto, Ontario Canada)

Gravediggers uprooting caskets

with sharp, steel shovels-

each slicing step downward

through nerve-rooted earth

cooper pennies jingle in change

pouches dangling by their sides.

They chat casually of Jesus,

His painless resurrection

from the sealed tomb,

money-changers being chased

away from God’s holy temple.

Michael Lee Johnson is a poet, editor, publisher, freelance writer, amateur photographer, small business owner in Itasca, Illinois.  He has been published in more than 880 small press magazines in 27 countries, and he edits 10 poetry sites.  Michael is the author of The Lost American:  From Exile to Freedom, several chapbooks of poetry, including From Which Place the Morning Rises and Challenge of Night and Day, and Chicago.  See his website for more about him http://poetryman.mysite.com/     

Haiku-By Kelley White--United States

April snowstorm

pansies wait in the bathtub

before planting.

 ~ ~ ~

barely summer

dandelions

already gone to seed

~ ~ ~

Dandelion fluff

and soap bubbles float by—

child’s birthday party.

~ ~ ~

huddled tight, cuddled,

two little dogs on the porch,

freezing winter rain

~ ~ ~

Lunar new year—

must the wreath and greens

be thrown away?

 ~ ~ ~

Pediatrician Kelley White worked in inner city Philadelphia and now works in rural New Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in journals including Exquisite Corpse, Rattle and JAMA. Her most recent books are Toxic Environment (Boston Poet Press) and Two Birds in Flame (Beech River Books.) She received a 2008 Pennsylvania Council on the Arts grant.

Convalescence--By Sheikha A.--Pakistan and U.A.E

Convalescence

It isn't the first time the azaan wakes
me from a dream. People who are
haunted don't live around flower-leafed
trees. The few minutes before waking
I dreamt of long black curls flowing down
a hard spine. The hours of sunset are
an enduring wait. But, always, in the second
of opening the eyes, time is approachable;
the undermined sounds of life speak
the truth about the rewards of the light.
We grow a shadow for the sun to shine on,
there is no illness defined by limitations
which won't eat figs of labours. I, who
grows like the cestrum, lets the warmth
of hope find my core to fill it with continuality.

(Note: Azaan is the Muslim call for prayer.)

Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and U.A.E. and often finds herself in a world of oscillation that most of the times motivates her writing too. She maintains a (or tries to) blog on sheikha82.wordpress.com.  

Wide Eyes Absorbing That Magical Scene--By Robert Lindley--United States

Wide Eyes Absorbing That Magical Scene

Upon night's clear sky, moon glowing its best
Soft breeze, swirling gently in silent tune
That gleaming star shining high in the West
Companion for Heaven's striking big moon!

Wide eyes absorbing true magical scene
With its proof we are souls wanting to fly
Earthen ground reflecting brightest moon-sheen
Tears born of pure joy, not a sad, sad cry

As dawn comes to wipe, to give us new views
We may feel pains of sorrow losing this
Should we not celebrate having the two
For surely either lost, we'd dearly miss!

Should mankind ponder why such great, bright gifts
Tis Heaven's view to earth that so uplifts!

Robert Lindley is poet from the Southern USA. He has been writing poetry since 1969. Robert writes with the intent to offer others words to enjoy and with high hopes he may inspire and brighten lives in some way.

Melting Candle of Hope--By Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo - Fraser--Philippines

Melting Candle of Hope

Holding careful the thin line of sanity and despair

cold and colder are the days - nights passing by,

tender are the mornings, gnawing are the evenings

as nightmares fall frequently, snaking. Cutting raw.

Unmet. Breached expectations toss events raggedly,

acceptance due - rendered fail from the so called wise

rather the onset of pride heightens: rile! Miles and miles

is the old weary road. Yes, endured by a candle of hope.

Ever - believing, the rains, the pains will be over soon

as I've tasted heavens amidst coming and going hell

Helplessness, frustrations flood causing tears to tumble

Weakness quivers but I still cling to candle of hope.

In dark silence, I desire refuge, I desire a quiet rest but

knowing tomorrow burgeons to blossoms: hues of change.

Ah! Chances are frugal to collated reasons - prejudiced sins.

To where this ends, where will we be, kindly let me know?

Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo - Fraser, 28 year-old from The Philippines, is a nurse by profession. Poetry writing is her new found hobby, since 2012. She is a member of Poetry Soup where she submits most of her poems. Her writing inspiration is driven by God, experiences and nature. She dreams of publishing a book someday.

Steady Lungs--By Scott Thomas Outlar--United States

Steady Lungs

I am tempted when you test me

with these trials and tribulations

to succumb

beneath the turbulent waves

and wash away

to the depths of an ocean

that cannot be fathomed,

but I know that the goal

is in reach,

and so if I just keep

taking one more step

I will breach the surface

to breathe the beauty

of your divinity

and grace

into these lungs

that are ready

to seize

such a blissful taste.

(Originally appeared in Leaves of Ink)

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, and books can be found. He recently received three Pushcart Prize nominations for his work in 2016. Scott serves as an editor for Walking Is Still Honest Press, The Blue Mountain Review, The Peregrine Muse, and Novelmasters.

Haiku--By Robert Epstein--United States

70 now he vows to take up  air guitar _____________ that bald head in the just-cleaned mirror can’t be me _____________ pumpkin filling my niece wants to pour it into the jack-o-lantern _____________ October morning a crow on the roof cracks the last walnut _____________

Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies: The Breath of Surrender: A Collection of Recovery-Oriented Haiku; Dreams Wander On: Contemporary Poems of Death Awareness; and The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change; as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku.  His most current anthology, The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku, was released in 2014.

Deliverers of Divinity--By Allan Ball--England

Deliverers of Divinity

Messengers of mercy

Drifting in the breeze

Shimmering in silence

Bestowing sanctuary with ease

Moonlight is your lantern

On gossamer wings you fly

Your benevolence is wondrous

With reverence you supply

Serenity surrounds you

Filling me with grace

Passing by in fascination

Awesome wonders taking place

Bringing forth tranquility

Peace to those in need

Sentinels of solace

With love you intercede

Deliverers of divinity

Selected by Our Savior’s hand

To live in paradise forever

The eternal promised land.

Allan Ball is retired, most of career was spent in the fiscal and financial world. He has several poems published in anthologies. He finds writing relaxing and enjoyable. He feels that the

written word allows our hearts to speak.

Hush!--By Neil Creighton--Australia

Hush!

Hush! Tread quietly and don’t disturb
For here is a moment to always treasure
For Eleanor Miette, though she’s less than one,
Is looking at books and chatting with pleasure.

Hush! Tread quietly and softly retreat,
Tiptoe gently away from this place,
For who for a moment would ever disturb
That look of pure joy all over her face.

Hush! Tread quietly and don’t disturb,
Yet linger a moment for one last little look,
For this little girl though she’s less than one
Is lost in the world of a wonderful book.

Neil Creighton is an Australian poet with a passion for social justice, a love of people and the natural world. His work as a teacher of Drama and English made him intensely aware of how opportunity is so unequally proportioned. His recent publications include Prosopisia, Poetry Quarterly, Praxis Online Mag, Silver Birch Press, Social Justice Poetry, Whispers  and "Verse-Virtual, where he is a contributing editor. He blogs at windofflowers.blogspot.com.au

bell ringer--By Lois Greene Stone--United States

bell ringer

Touching tiny squares pushed

into plastic, my fingers rim

the receiver.  Shall I, or not,

they decide as if they were

plucking petals from a daisy

playing a child's game of she

loves me, she loves me not.

An irritating sound signals

I must make up my mind else

return the hand piece to its

cradle.  Hang-up, hang-up,

staccato tempo.  I punch

the buttons for ten digits

because I miss your voice.

Lois Greene Stone, writer and poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been included in hard & softcover book anthologies. Collections of her personal items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different divisions of The Smithsonian.

Lotus--By Lynn White--Wales

Lotus

If in the afternoon I come upon a land
and find the lotus blooming there,
Will I recognise it’s flowers and fruits.
Will I remember it’s story.
And in the evening,
after sniffing the fragrance
of the flowers and tasting the fruit,
will I have forgotten
to wonder.

(First published in Miscreant, April 2016)

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Her poem 'A Rose For Gaza' was shortlisted for the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition 2014. This and many other poems, have been widely published online and in print. Find her at lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com   

East Rockville in Winter--By Marianne Szlyk--United States

East Rockville in Winter

Snow falling like ash

blots out the backyard’s wet green.

Cold blasts the last leaf

that clings to the rose-
bush; the last flowers withered
to white weeks ago.

Wind pushes through glass.

Lemon-ginger steam rises

from my teacup.  I drink,

being thirsty for
tranquil winter, this season
when we are snowed in.

Marianne Szlyk is the editor of The Song Is... , an associate poetry editor at Potomac Review, and a professor of English at Montgomery College. Her second chapbook, I Dream of Empathy, was published by Flutter Press. Her poems have appeared in a variety of online and print venues, including Silver Birch Press, Cactifur, Of/with, bird's thumb, Truck, Algebra of Owls, The Blue Mountain Review, and Yellow Chair Review. Her first chapbook is available (for free) through Kind of a Hurricane Press: http://barometricpressures.blogspot.com/2014/10/listening-to-electric-cambodia-looking.html   

Bells that don't ring, throw down the pail--By Daniel Turner--United States

Bells that don't ring, throw down the pail

When mining thoughts, how deafening the ring

We search the walls of silence for a vein

A golden verse to strum on soft heart strings

To touch someone and stake a poet's claim

We chip away, in rubble, as we pick

It falls as wads of paper on the floor

When suddenly a glowing candlewick

We've struck the mother lode of metaphors

And as the liquid gold flows through the pen

In words of love and matters of the heart

The muse begins to tingle deep within

While he assays the worth of this new art

These nuggets that we find could be for sale

If bells are ringing, don't throw down the pail.

Daniel Turner is 60 years old and lives in Arkansas. He has been writing poetry for approximately 40 years. He loves animals and all things having to do with nature. Now retired, he has traveled over 3 million miles as a long-haul truck driver, worked in the oil fields of Texas and on the Mississippi River on a tow boat. He loves to read and watch old black and white movies.

Winter Season--By Arthur Rehbein (pseudonym Atz vom Rhyn)—In Memory 1867-1952—Germany

Winter Season (English)

Whirling snowflakes at the window

Fire crackling in the stack;

From far chime bells from the sleighs

I can hear it through the air

Fir trees in the streets,

Lovely spell from far and wide;

Wondrous are the children's dreams -

Oh ye blessed winter season

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winterszeit  (German)

Vor dem Fenster wirbeln Flocken,

Feuer prasselt im Kamin;

Fern Geläut aus Schlittenglocken

Hör' ich durch die Lüfte zieh'n

In den Straßen Tannenbäume,

Holder Zauber weit und breit;

Wundersame Kinderträume -

O du selige Wintersszeit

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur Rehbein, also known under his pseudonym Atz vom Rhyn, was one of Gert Knop’s grandfather's brothers. He was born on October 26, 1867 in Remscheid, North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany and died on February 29, 1952 in Berlin, Germany. His son Max H. Rehbei was a journalist, TV-editor and producer for the NDR (North German Radio).

Arthur Rehbein was a journalist and author. He did extensive travels around the world and published many books including three volumes of poetry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(shared and authorized for publication by Gert Knop—a Whispers’ contributor since 2013)

Hey, Hummingbird--By James Keane--United States

Hey, Hummingbird

Hey, hummingbird
hovering, peering in
just outside my window
to life,
           just be there when I need you,

where my sad son
can see you. Be tickled
your soundless whirring makes
him smile a little to fly
a little, forget to cry
alone, a little.
                       May he always know

he is good, and my prayer
through his window to life
be heard, and never misunderstood:

Keep him lovingly in your sights
all of my days, and all of his nights.

(Originally published in Autumn Leaves)

James Keane lives in northern New Jersey, USA with his wife and son and a menagerie of merry pets. In 2013, his first poetry chapbook, What Comes Next, was published by Finishing Line Press. His poems have appeared recently in the Indiana Voice Journal, Verse-Virtual, The Bond Street Review, the Wilderness House Literary Review, the Tipton Poetry Journal, the Blue Monday Review, the Firewords Quarterly, the East Coast Literary Review, and Contemporary American Voices. In addition, he still can’t cook to save his life.