As a way to further showcase the talented writing published on The Milk House, as well as to get readers...
As a farmer and former English major, it gives me no pleasure to announce this, but the truth is agriculture...
In western Kansas one can see for miles. Grain elevators stick out of the earth like push pins on a...
Writing the Land: Foodways and Social Justice is a collection of poems and essays that brings together poets, land protection...
Whenever my father needed to motivate himself while working on the farm he would say, “Come on, man, rock ‘n...
Along the upper Spoon River, 1935 When they found him at last, he was face down in a pool of...
That summer my family broke up I stayed on my aunt’s farm and slept in a bedroom with no curtains....
Dire Straits You think wheelchairs race the corridor at night, see letters on the mountain, ask me what they spell,...
I am hawthorn Beautiful and forbidding I inspire reverence a healthy reticence. You might find me near holy wells and...
Culchie Treks through the fields to training (it’s a five minute walk) Only to be greeted by the sting up...
A Dedication to Drowning Stretched like a drum a coating of me covers my skeletal frame. For now, I am...
Crescent was getting more than a bit familiar with me. First it was my fingers, then the seams and zipper...