Heather Lende, Alaska's previous Writer Laureate, shares a poem read on a cold, dark night during a dinner with friends.

The boiling water sound I am hearing is actually wind. If only I slept at night ... I switched on a light and saw that I was holding a book of love poems from Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

The concept of wind colour is explored at length in Flann O’Brien’s comic novel The Third Policeman, courtesy of old Philip ...

From the column: "To misapply a fine point, poetry — like Latin, FORTRAN, and fact-checking — is a dead language." ...

Now that the new year has come, I’m looking forward to the joys of spring when the sun will breathe new life into the ...

Myra Sklarew, a poet and teacher who found inspiration for her graceful, meditative verses in the natural world, her Jewish heritage and her early years working with rhesus monkeys at a research lab, ...

Yet can I really escape it? How much of my creative life is now affected by it, how many poems has the insidious smog crept its way into? Too many. When I come around, through the train window ...

If "April is the cruelest month," then January is the grimmest, when measured by temperature and human sentiment.