Tom Riley

TOM RILEY is a retiree living on 12 acres in Pittstown. There he gardens, bakes, boils maple syrup, grows hops, and makes pizzas in a wood-fired oven. He is currently constructing poems exploring 60 years of living on the same rural road.

Articles

Letters to the Editor

The Dark Gray Morning

The dark gray morning has its eye on you
Forget about the stormy
you have more pressing worries. What to do?
The dark gray morning has its eye on you

Manna in the Desert

“The satisfaction brought by morning dew
is more than human stomachs can endure,”
the men insist, hoping that they will die.
“The satisfaction brought by morning dew

Triple A’s

He himself is the present he is wrapping
under the starlit branches of the sky.
This, of course, is a truth that needs no trapping:
it is apparent to the naked eye.

The Elect

The righteous pagans cursed our easy grace.
We shrugged and smiled and knew salvation well.
Looking our wounded savior in the face,
the righteous pagans cursed our easy grace.

Scriptum Est

He read us stories from a book as blank
as a white sky. (He couldn’t read the sky,
however.) Words marched forward, rank on rank:
he read us stories from a book as blank