I’m pleased that U. S. 1 Worksheets has accepted my poem “Travelogue” for their 2015 issue. U.S. 1 is based in Princeton, NJ, and has published its yearly journal since 1973. The journal includes over 100 new and seasoned poets in each issue; local, national, and international voices are featured. See the journal at the link above.
I’ve been fortunate to be published previously by U.S. 1 Worksheets. Last year’s poem can be found at the end of this post.
The varied covers for the journal are photographs, paintings, or mixed media collages by acclaimed artists.
The Town Topics, a Princeton, NJ newspaper, noted that:
“This year, (2014), cover art is a collage by Yardley, PA, artist, Stephen Milliner. For last year’s 40th anniversary issue, managing editor Nancy Scott’s collage graces the cover. The accomplished local art photographer Frank Magalhaes (who created the journal’s layout for a number of years) donated work for two issues 51, and 54. Other issues have featured Therese Halscheid’s “Mexican Vessels,” “The Writing Desk” by New Jersey photographer Thomas Bivin, work by Paul Cockrell of California (issue 53), Dick Greene of Massachusetts (issue 52), and Jay Goodkind (issue 50).
“Established in 1973, U.S.1 Poets’ Cooperative has met continuously once a week in members’ homes for critique sessions. ‘It’s the longest continuously running poetry group in the nation,’ said member Betty Lies as she got the event underway. A member of the group since 1989, Ms. Lies serves as the journal’s senior selecting editor and is a Dodge Poet for the Geraldine R. Dodge Foundation.”
U.S. 1 Worksheets publishes once a year.
2015 dates for submission (for the 2016 edition) are Wednesday, April 15, 2015 (267.5 days from now) through Tuesday, June 30, 2015.
I’m honored to be published in this terrific, well-respected journal.
My poem, “All the Universe Is Your Toy” published in 2014 issue of U.S. 1 Worksheetsis below:
All the Universe Is Your Toy
to my grandson, Lucas
Cool birdseed filters between our fingers,
spills in an arc of black and gold
onto mesh feeders at our feet. You display
your hand – teardrop seed stuck
between fat of fingers – wipe it on my thigh,
and mouth-open laugh, while your
hand dives again into the tub of seed.
Black-capped chickadees and purple
finches swirl where the feeder used to be.
You wave at them and spray seed trails
over my lap. I look toward tree line and sun –
brilliant on the metal of my scooter.
You jump to reach the birds, pull my hand
to jump too, your dark hair releasing
the scent of baby shampoo. Get up, get up,
you urge, in your toddler summer
that will twirl to one sunrise after another.
Then I am untethered, standing,
lifting my good foot high, as if jumping
each time your feet leave the earth.
© Marie Kane