Barbara Goldberg graduated Phi Beta Kappa in Philosophy from Mount Holyoke College. She went on for an MA from Yeshiva University, MEd from Columbia University; and an MFA from American University. She has authored four prize-winning books of poetry, including The Royal Baker’s Daughter, recipient of the Felix Pollak Poetry Prize. Her most recent book is Scorched by the Sun, poems translated from the Hebrew by the Israeli poet Moshe Dor. Goldberg and Dor translated and edited three anthologies of contemporary Israeli poetry, including After the First Rain: Israeli Poems on War and Peace. The recipient of two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts as well as awards in fiction and speechwriting, Goldberg’s work appears widely, including American Poetry Review,Best American Poetry and the Paris Review. Currently she is Visiting Writer at American University’s MFA program.
Yellowtail snapper with citrus beurre blanc
filet mignon in demi-glace cabernet
roast duck garnished with mint-jellied peaches
angels on horseback (dates stuffed with garlic cloves
wrapped in bacon and served in a hot honey-pepper sauce)
bananas foster, key lime pie
dense, flourless chocolate cake
drizzled with a raspberry coulis.
Lord, grant me the power to well digest all that I have well eaten.
Diane Walker ‘71 is a writer and a self-described contemplative photographer who takes her inspiration from meditation and nature. She majored in English Composition but spent almost 40 years not writing poetry. In 2009 she began producing a daily blog of poems and photographs as a New Year’s Resolution, and though the results have been decidedly mixed, she continues the practice as a spiritual discipline. A former Seattle marketing executive, Walker is now exhibitions director of ECVA.org, and has just completed a degree program in Organizational Dynamics at Antioch’s Center for Creative Change. She is a resident of Bainbridge Island, Washington.
The stage is set
for some new entrance;
the dark descended full.
Back from drinking intermission,
we watch the flames of past desires
toss sparks of possibility
through the lantern’s eye,
into futures yet unknown.
We grip each other’s hands
what new act,
startling in its ingenuity
will hurl itself from the balcony of stars
into our hearts?