HomeArchiveAboutMastheadJoin POW ListserveDonate


Amie Whittemore

If you can admit your own narrowness,
you're onto persimmon and cardamom.

If you dust off your brave pants, you'll manage
mudslides, samba, dodge and weave.

The smallest voice is the truest;
wear those ears that turn like planets.

If you give him a turnip,
and he turns to sand, begin again:

the tax you pay for loving is grief--
my therapist said so, and once you accept

a therapist's wisdom, you're halfway
somewhere. Goats are sympathy machines

unlike squirrels, toads, mirrors, livers,
harpoons. Doors--

they multiply every time you walk through one.
When you're doing something,

you're doing something. Lift a hand,
mouth, or heart. Draw the shades.

Dream of the Ark

My brothers will not name their sons Hiram, though I see them--
bird-chested boys with floppy ears and big noses climbing trees

and throwing rocks through windows of abandoned garages,
their shouts springing kernels from their cobs.

But when my brothers and I speak of our future
children, it's like children reconstructing the lives of dinosaurs.

We argue, and those shirtless barefoot rascal boys
are whisked back into their husks. I dream my womb

is an ark, filled not with children, not pairs of animals, but leaf blight,
broken spinning wheels, severed hands warped with arthritis.


Morning. Watching the half-frozen river collect geese,
I know I'm a fool for whatever's gone away.

I tell my husband my dream of the ark, another of raising canaries
in a basement, their bodies yellow ornaments in trees prospering

without sunlight, their rattled leaves sparking like aluminum.
And while I interpret these visions as signs we'll never grow

blueberries, gather eggs from hens, he looks at me
like I'm speaking Dutch. He says too often I extrapolate

an entire imaginary alphabet from a single letter.
In other words, relax. Outside, his shovel slings snowdrifts.


But I know my brothers will not name their sons Hiram,
and I will have no daughter named Kathryn,

though she often appears, smoking a joint on the beach,
her new skull tattoo laughing on her shoulder.

She hates when I call her lily-pad.
She flings curse words at the sky like empty beer cans.

Mile-long hair, voice like moss-coated stone, I imagine
her into more and more beauty, while also fashioning

her a weak heart. I warn her the future is a skinned animal
stalking us all. I tell her the swan's neck is a noose.

Winter trees braid the white sky; my husband shakes snow
from his boots and comes inside.


We drink tea. I remind him today is the shortest day.
But what I mean is, I want to unbutton the future

and find a breathing lung. I mean, if we indulge in a dream
of new Hirams and Kathryns, new Edwins and Whitts,

if we kissed open their eyes, inhaled their birthy scent,
would the other dream, of keeping the farm, of replanting orchards,

of raising goats, vanish? Neither dream is trustworthy.

My desire is like a child's wish for her toy doll
to mend its broken leg. My husband would argue you can't mend

what isn't broken. My brothers would suggest I'm in love
with an idea that doesn't exist. They're probably right.

But I hear the doll weep. I feel her broken leg like it is my own.

The Unknotting

Sour cherries splatter the burnt lawn;
a black dog wears its clover necklace.

Rabbit caught, a fluttering heart in my palms.
Wagons piling with gold beads of soybeans,

sweet pop of pods chaffing the yard.
My grandmother like a queen in all this, distant,

as if always on the swing hung from the oak.
Charmer--even the dog would hold her hand

in its mouth. Who wouldn't want to please her?
Woman who tucked her dresses into overalls

to haul corn with my grandfather,
who knew grosbeak, goldfinch, junco,

whose call pulled swans to her like water.
How to answer when she asked, standing

beside her old photograph, if she was beautiful?
Sunset-colored hair, eyes two pools singing

about the sky. I'd go back now and ask--
nothing. Whatever lies between fact

and invention is too slim to matter.
Just let me draw near them--small self

and Grandmother, braiding clover--a bee
fretting their hair, seeking blossom.

                     -from Glass Harvest
As in Amie Whittemore's "The Unknotting," write a eulogy to a magical character from your past. This could be a family member, a friend, a favorite pet...hell, your subject could be a character still living who you haven't encountered in some time. Either way, we want this poem to praise some character from your past who is no longer part of your future. Include as many unique details as you can. Ask yourself, "What makes this character truly unique, singular?" The grandmother in "The Unknotting" was a charmer who seemed at one with the natural world in some nearly mythical ways: My grandmother like a queen in all this, distant, // as if always on the swing hung from the oak. / Charmer--even the dog would hold her hand // in its mouth... who knew grosbeak, goldfinch, junco, // whose call pulled swans to her like water." Just for the challenge of it and for the specificity of the image, the lyirc, the narrative: include at least one flying animal and one fruit. Compose in couplets. No more than 20 lines. And, as always, enjoy.
Amie Whittemore is a poet, educator, and the author of Glass Harvest (Autumn House Press). She is also co-founder of the Charlottesville Reading Series. An instructor at Middle Tennessee State University, she holds degrees from the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign (B.A.), Lewis and Clark College (M.A.T.), and Southern Illinois University Carbondale (M.F.A.). Her poems have appeared in The Gettysburg Review, Sycamore Review, Rattle, Cimarron Review, and elsewhere.
A Review of Amie Whittemore's Glass Harvest by Dorthy Chan, first published at Boxcar Poetry Review

Amie Whittemore's debut poetry collection, Glass Harvest, is filled with this essence of "deluge," from a literal deluge one thinks of when building a metaphorical ark in "Dream of the Ark" to a flood of passion one feels when leaning in for a lover's kiss in "Blackberry Season," "Charlottesville, 7 a.m.," and countless other poems. Whittemore's aesthetic is ecological—she looks into the relationships between people and the nature surrounding them. For instance, in her opening piece, "Aphorisms," she creates beautiful metaphors connecting growth in a person to natural gain: "If you can admit your own narrowness,/you're onto permission and cardamom./If you dust off your brave pants, you'll

manage/mudslides, samba, dodge and weave./The smallest voice is the truest;/wear those ears that turn like planets." I enjoy how Whittemore equates these metaphors to "aphorisms." By doing so, she is not only challenging her reader to seek out these truths, but also wants to change their mindsets to become more ecologically minded. Yet, besides this erotic-ecological backdrop, Whittemore's book is filled with other forms of passion and love: a woman who desires other women, a speaker who pays homage to her grandmother and who tries to continue this lineage with a letter to her future granddaughter, and above all, a voice that finds the erotic in the intellectual.

This "erotic in the intellectual" is inherent in "Blackberry Season," one of Whittemore's standout poems. Whittemore's playfulness in language is brilliant: "We toss blackberries at each other's mouths/as if they are tiny grenades—". This playfulness is also sensual: "The tilt of your chin/makes me think you mean red velvet cake/when your beer and berry breath leans/in for a kiss. Not once have you asked/to touch the eggs, though they are smooth/as the word yes, heavy as no." Here, the "intellectual" includes an analysis of language—while "yes" is smooth, "no" is heavy-and with this, Whittemore has gained another aphorism. This is then balanced with the visceral and even tragic: "Blackberry seeds/turn our tongues to sandpaper and my skirt/thrown across the floor looks like a lake/where a child has drowned." By including a poem about blackberries, Whittemore inserts herself into a "poets writing about blackberries" tradition that ranges from Sylvia Plath ("Blackberrying") to Robert Hass ("Meditation at Lagunitas").

The lines, "Your set to work,/turning our bodies into jam" in "Blackberry Season" is comparable to "My mind's oatmeal again" in "Crush." In "Crush," Whittemore utilizes the short lines to her benefit in order to create a tension and release of sensuality: "rose petals clamping my throat,/the end of this sentence not resulting/in your body pressed against me,/so I'll abandon it for—". The em dash after "so I'll abandon it for—" is brilliant—it allows for the moment of breathless hesitation after one body touches the other.

Whittemore's poems also play into female sexuality. For instance, in "Charlottesville, 7 a.m.," the speaker juxtaposes the image of her husband speaker with the synesthesia of a woman's lips: "The woman's lips—soft and tough as a fox's padded foot./It arrives now, bloodstain on a gray hood./It tests the earth like morning." These are the last three lines of the poem, making it both resonant and clear that the speaker is yearning for the female stranger rather than her husband. The way the speaker reminisces about the woman's lips is telling. Though the woman's lips are soft, their effect is like "bloodstain" which "tests the earth like morning" when the speaker is back with her husband. For this reason, the ending line becomes all the more haunting.

As much as Whittemore pervades her collection with sensuality, she also juggles with lineage and family history. I love Whittemore's wordplay of "widow" and "window" in "Two Windows." Above all, poems like "Two Widows," "First Visitation," and "Second Visitation" pay beautiful homage to her grandmother. The poet not only continues this lineage with "To My Future Granddaughter," but she also rewrites this lineage. She, the poet, takes control of this history: "You're afraid that's all./It's stupid we're built this way—". Colloquial asides such as this really ground the poet's point-of-view with the reader's. With this, Whittemore is telling both her granddaughter and the audience that we're all "afraid," but that's why we have each other to reveal our deepest secrets to. Whittemore has revealed some deep secrets, yet she still ends on a lighter note, which brings the reader in even more. "Switchgrass" balances this lightness with again, the intellectual: "Though it intimates intellectual laziness,/as well as, perhaps, perversion, I'm a little hot/for your Wikipedia entry." Whittemore has rolled intellect, eroticism, secrets, and even perversion into another bold statement, leaving us craving more of her secrets in this "glass harvest."
An Interview with Amie Whittemore by Ruth Awad, first published as part of Awad's Pet Poetics
Ruth Awad: First of all, Amie, I'm happy to hear your cats Chicory and Sage are finally letting you get some sleep. Tell me about your decision to bring them into your life.

Amie Whittemore: About a year ago, my beloved cat of ten years Stevens (yep, she was cat Stevens) died. As the first pet of my adulthood, adopted the year two grandparents died and lost the year after I divorced, her death marked not only a grievous loss, but also an end to an era of my life. She felt like the last anchor holding me steady; once she was gone, I felt entirely unmoored.

As anyone who has felt unmoored knows, it is largely impossible to imagine feeling moored again. Yet, with time, fantasies of kittens began to frolic in my mind. Having spent a decade fretting that Stevens was excruciatingly lonely as a single cat, I decided to adopt two kittens this time around. I began haunting the SPCA, waiting for love at first sight.

I met Chicory on one of these visits. She mewed at me as I passed her cage. I picked her up; she purred immediately, completely at ease curling up in my lap. A four-year-old boy sat on the floor next to me and informed me this kitten's name was George and he was going to take her home when his dog died.

However, Chicory (whose middle name is George, in honor of her almost-owner) was there two days later when I decided I needed her in my life. That's when I found a calico companion for her in Sage. Where Chicory is confident, charming, sociable, and playful, Sage is timid, frenetic, and (strangely enough) aggressively affectionate. They are loving and standoffish with each other in turns. I find their personalities, and their relationship, intensely interesting.

RA: I know you lost your cat Stevens not long ago, and you reference her death in your poem "Year In Review." The line "Grew weepy in conversation about said dead cat / more often than is culturally appropriate" struck a chord with me. Did you feel pressure to meter how you wrote about her death because of the "culturally appropriate" expectation?

AW: The poem picks up on the pressure I felt to withhold the intensity of my grief when friends politely shared their sympathies with me. Even recalling that grief brings tears to my eyes. There is not a day I do not miss Stevens.

I also think my poems about Stevens address a larger issue regarding grief in American society. I do not think we know how to honor it well in each other. We rely on tropes like "time heals" and "you'll get over it," though I think, in all our hearts, we know there is no "getting over." And time may heal, but scars remain.

I think we could learn something from our pets about handling grief. They are such good caretakers of us in times of sorrow. They do not judge our weeping. They cuddle with us. They do not put time limits on feelings.

RA: How did writing about Stevens help you process the loss? I'm thinking specifically about your poem "Song for Stevens" where there's heartbreak in every line. I can hardly read this without tearing up: "If given seven slides of calico hides, / I'd know which side was hers. If blindfolded / and handed seven cats, I'd know her by shape."

AW: I can't read those lines without tearing up either. I wrote "Song for Stevens" while she was still alive. Writing that poem, and the poems that confront her death, helped me to honor the unique experience of adoring a pet. These poems give voice to the unbearable--and breathtaking--need to love something else unconditionally, passionately, and thoughtlessly. We have such a hard time doing this well with each other. With pets, we can learn to do this better--for their sakes and for the sakes of our relationships with our partners, families, friends, and all the creatures we with whom we share this earth.

RA: What's your writing process like, and do your pets ever figure into it?

AW: My cats are active writing partners! I usually write in the morning, which is one of their favorite times to play. My writing time is interspersed with crumbling up paper balls to toss at them while I work. Usually one decides to stroll across the keyboard to make some edits. One is usually perched in the window beside me or on a printed poem--drafts make great beds, apparently!

RA: Your debut poetry collection Glass Harvest will be out soon (and I can't wait to read it). Do you have some advice for poets who are trying to complete or publish their first book?

AW: Some of the most bolstering advice I received was from the poet Jane Hirshfield when I took a workshop with her at the Key West Literary Seminar. She said to treat every rejection as a gift of time--time to help the manuscript become its best self. I worked on this manuscript for eight years. It was not always easy to see rejection as a gift; however, when I recall its past selves, I'm incredibly glad they did not get published.

Poetry publishing is all long game. And it can feel even longer when you begin to compare your journey to Poet X or Poet Y. Try not to-or, indulge your envy, let it know you hear it, you understand its fiery pain, then move on. Try to remember comparison is the thief of joy. It is the thief of your very life.

RA: Fill in the blank: you're stuck on a poem, so you...?

AW: Ignore it. I'm always working on multiple poems at a time, so when one is being disagreeable, I focus on others and let my subconscious chew on the stuck poem awhile. Or, I "break" it, tackling the subject from a different angle, trading narrative for lyric, long for short. I try to notice where my attention drifts and cut those parts. If I'm bored or restless, no doubt a reader is, too.

RA: What is it about the animal world that most captures your attention as a poet?

AW:  love learning about animal societies. I'm working on a poem about albatrosses and discovered that they spend years crafting complex courtship dances. Once they mate, the mates abandon the dance and form a private language, discernible only to each other. This is amazing to me and seems profoundly similar to human partnership: every long-term couple I know also has its own private shorthand.

RA: Advice for poets who want to write meaningfully about the death of their pets but don't want to be dismissed as sentimental?

AW: The advice is the same as what I would give for writing about the grief of losing a beloved human: be concrete. Focus on the specific interactions you have with the pet, the specific expressions of its personality. Don't be afraid to be humorous. My favorite memory of Stevens is of her lying on my face and neck at 3 a.m., a ball of purring sweetness, while also drooling all over me. Include the drool with the purrs and you'll be in good shape.

RA: A simile for your cats?

AM: Oh lord, I'm such a poet; my cats' names are metaphors for themselves.

Chicory is an invasive weed in Illinois where I grew up--incredibly hardy, able to grow along roadsides and in pavement cracks. Chicory the cat is the same--hard to imagine her not thriving wherever she goes.

Sage is much like the spice--unique. Flavorful. And, as with the spice, which I rarely use but love the scent of, I don't quite know what to do with her most of the time.





This site  The Web 


Click here to buy Whittemore's book

Amie Whittemore






Dan Albergotti 04-22-2015


Agha Shahid Ali 09-14-07


Hala Alyan 03-02-2017


Alice Anderson 11-16-08


Apocalypse Now 11-19-2012


Aaron Anstett 11-12-2015


Renee Ashley 04-10-2010


Charlotte Austin 11-26-2013


Christianne Balk 07-27-07


Christianne Balk 05-12-2014


Brian Barker 01-22-2014


Brian Barker 07-07-07


Quan Barry 04-08-2013


Polina Barskova 09-13-2010


Bruce Beasley 11-22-08


Nicky Beer 01-12-2016


Nicky Beer 09-06-2010


Nicky Beer 08-22-08


Nathaniel Bellows 04-27-09


Ciaran Berry 01-25-09


Lillian-Yvonne Bertram 09-17-2013


Linda Bierds 08-31-07


Kristin Bock 08-17-09


Bruce Bond 02-18-2012


John Bradley 03-12-2012


Mark J. Brewin Jr. 02-05-2014


Brian Brodeur 03-29-09


Brian Brodeur 08-21-2012


Bill Brown 01-19-2016


F. Douglas Brown 10-07-2015


Nickole Brown 04-29-2015


J. Scott Brownlee 08-25-2016


Michelle Boisseau 09-20-2010 


Sophie Cabot Black 03-26-2012


Kara Candito 09-16-2014


Anthony Carelli 09-02-2014


Anders Carlson-Wee 04-19-2016


Anne Caston 09-24-09


Anne Caston 02-27-2011


Elizabeth Biller Chapman 01-25-08


Franny Choi 10-27-2016


George David Clark 02-09-2016


Tiana Clark 11-10-2016


Nicole Cooley 04-05-09


Eduardo C. Corral 05-27-2015


Stephen Cramer 02-14-2011


Nicole Cuddeback 03-07-08


David J. Daniels 10-22-2015


Steve Davenport 03-29-2010


Steve Davenport 05-07-2013


Cortney Davis 05-03-09


Geffrey Davis 09-09-2014


Todd Davis 03-10-2014


Todd Davis 11-01-2010


James Dickey 03-12-2012


Katy Didden 03-24-2014


Stephen Dobyns 02-26-2012


Elizabeth Dodd 09-05-08


Karen Donovan 04-15-07


Mark Doty 04-11-08


Camille Dungy 12-23-2014


Stephen Dunn 11-09-02010


Lynn Emanuel 08-30-2010


Lynnell Edwards 11-22-2010


Kerry James Evans 02-18-2015


B. H. Fairchild  09-04-09


Tarfia Faizullah 08-25-2015


Andrew Feld 11-04-2014


Elyse Fenton 04-25-2011


Floodgate Poetry Vol 2. 11-24-2015


Floodgate Poetry Vol. 3 11-17-2016


Nick Flynn 01-28-2012


Nick Flynn 10-04-2010


Rachel Contreni Flynn 04-10-2011


Carolyn Forche 09-21-07


Carrie Fountain 02-23-2016


Carrie Fountain 03-21-2011


Ross Gay 11-29-2012


James Galvin 04-02-2013


James Galvin 02-23-07


Christian Anton Gerard 12-10-2015


Margaret Gibson 01-24-10


Mary Jo Firth Gillett 02-22-08


Dana Gioia 03-18-2013


Dana Gioia 08-23-2010


Eugene Gloria  02-04-2013


Eugene Gloria 09-20-08


Louise Gluck 03-17-2010


Kevin Goodan 08-29-08


Matthew Graham 11-28-2010


Robert Grunst 04-14-2014


Robert Grunst 11-16-07


Bruce Guernsey 9-13-2011


Elizabeth Hadaway 06-15-07


John Haines 11-01-2011


Donald Hall 02-10-07


Sam Hamill 10-02-2013


Sarah Hannah 11-25-2011


C. G. Hanzlicek 04-23-2012


Jeff Hardin 10-09-2013


Jeff Hardin 08-10-07


Georganne Harmon 09-29-2015


Elizabeth Haukaas 09-13-2011


Brooks Haxton 03-08-10


Seamus Heaney 09-03-2013


Seamus Heaney 09-11-09


Jamey Hecht 12-05-2010


Kurt Heinzelman 03-31-2014


Claire Hero 12-08-2016


Bob Hicok 10-25-2011



Edward Hirsch 11-11-2014


Richie Hofmann 09-22-2016


Chloe Honum 01-20-2015


Cornelia Hoogland 02-17-2014


Andrew Hudgins 11-21-09


Richard Hugo 9-10-2012



Lynda Hull 05-20-07


T.R. Hummer 10-28-2013


Henry Israeli 01-23-2011


Major Jackson 05-02-2010


Mark Jarman 10-19-08


TJ Jarrett 09-08-2015


Luke Johnson 09-30-2014


Rodney Jones 10-26-09


Barbara Jordan 02-02-09


Judy Jordan 11-06-2012


Anna Journey 09-10-2013


Josh Kalscheur 02-23-2017


Ilya Kaminsky 11-18-2011


Julia Kasdorf 11-11-2013


Aby Kaupang 04-21-2014


Daniel Khalastchi 8-30-2011


Vandana Khanna 12-17-2015


Brigit Pegeen Kelly 10-12-08


Terry Kennedy 10-28-2014


Jane Kenyon 04-01-07


Suji Kwock Kim 11-09-2011

 James Kimbrell 04-07-2010

James Kimbrell 01-19-07


Galway Kinnell 11-09-07


Joanna Klink 09-08-2016


Yusef Komunyakaa 07-15-07


Stephanie Lenox 04-15-2013


Eleanor Lerman 11-02-08


Mari L'Esperance  02-11-2013


Phil Levine 06-03-07


Larry Levis 04-04-08


Larry Levis 02-08-2010


Lisa Lewis 02-11-2012


Sandra Lim 09-15-2016


Cecelia Llompart 02-09-2017


Sandy Longhorn 02-11-2015


Sandy Longhorn 04-26-08


Jon Loomis 03-09-2017


Bridget Lowe 12-01-2016


Al Maginnes 03-17-2014


Sally Wen Mao 09-29-2016


Corey Marks 09-18-2012


Corey Marks 10-03-07


Hugh Martin 03-15-2016


Adrian Matejka 04-18-08


Clay Matthews 01-27-2015


Jamaal May 04-12-2016


Davis McCombs 01-18-08


Jeffrey McDaniel 10-08-2011


Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum 02-24-2014


Campbell McGrath 04-06-2014


Michael McGriff 02-22-09


Marc McKee 11-06-2012


Jay Meek 01-16-2010


Erika Meitner 10-21-2013


Joanne Merriam 08-20-2013


Shivani Mehta 01-26-2016


Anne Michaels 01-18-09


Nils Michals 02-29-08


Sara Michas-Martin 03-11-2015


Wayne Miller 04-30-2012


Susanna J. Mishler 05-13-2015


Keith Montesano 05-06-2015


Keith Montesano 12-12-2010


Juan Morales 03-01-2016


Malena Morling 05-12-08


Travis Mossotti 01-13-2015


Simone Muench 02-16-2016


Simone Muench 02-08-08


Kathryn Nuernberger 02-25-2015


Sharon Olds 02-22-07


Sharon Olds 10-19-07


Michael Ondaatje 02-01-2010


Eric Pankey 09-07-07


Gregory Pardlo 03-29-2016


Gregory Pardlo 06-22-07


Ed Pavlic 09-28-07


Ed Pavlic 08-28-2012


Oliver de la Paz 02-15-2010


Charlotte Pence 09-16-2015


Lucia Perillo 12-04-09


Nathaniel Perry 10-07-2014


Jeffrey Pethybridge 04-26-2016


Catherine Pierce 09-04-2012


Catherine Pierce 04-18-2011


Jon Pineda 04-09-2012


Donald Platt 02-15-08


Joshua Poteat 03-13-2011


Joshua Poteat 11-3-09


Kevin Prufer 03-08-2016


Wyatt Prunty 02-20-2011


Dean Rader 03-07-2011


Doug Ramspeck 09-22-2015


Amy Randolph 03-01-09


Robert Randolph 12-12-09


Roger Reeves 10-14-2014


Paisley Rekdal 03-04-2013


Doren Robbins 10-30-2012


Joshua Robbins 11-04-2013


Joshua Robbins 11-16-2010


David Roderick 04-08-2015


David Roderick 12-07-07


Bobby C. Rogers 02-04-2012


Elizabeth Lindsey Rogers 08-18-2014


Pattiann Rogers 3-21-08


Ever Rohan Saskya 10-09-2012


Eva Saulitis 02-03-2015


Steve Scafidi 10-09-09


Jim Schley 10-19-09


Jeffrey Schultz 09-25-2012


Will Schutt 09-23-2014


Steven D. Schroeder 12-16-2014


Tim Seibles 10-08-07


Glenn Shaheen 10-23-2012


David Shumate 10-26-08


Martha Silano 04-29-2013


Sandra Simonds 02-02-2016


Ron Slate 04-22-2013


Austin Smith 10-13-2016


Dave Smith 04-10-09


Maggie Smith 01-26-2017


Maggie Smith 10-23-2012


Megan Snyder-Camp  02-18-2013


Katherine Soniat 12-06-2012


Katherine Soniat 01-21-2012


Katherine Soniat 11-30-07


Gary Soto 03-23-07


Mark Sullivan 08-28-09


Mathias Svalina 04-02-2012

Frank Stanford 10-25-2010

Christina Stoddard 10-13-2015


Mark Strand 02-22-2010


Mark Svenvold 03-23-09


Sam Taylor 04-01-2015


Ryan Teitman 09-24-2013


Daniel Nathan Terry 01-28-2013


Robert Thomas 05-03-2011


Venus Thrash 09-01-2016


Seth Brady Tucker 09-01-2015


Seth Brady Tucker 02-25-2013


Brian Turner 05-13-07


Joshua Vinzant 01-30-2011


Tribute to Virginia Tech 04-24-07


Connie Voisine 10-1-2011


Ocean Vuong 03-23-2017


Mark Wagenaar 04-28-2014


Stacey Waite 03-25-2013


Daneen Wardrop 04-06-2017


Charles Harper Webb 12-09-2013


Charles Harper Webb 10-12-07


David Wevill 03-27-2011


Marcus Wicker 10-20-2016


Joshua Marie Wilkinson 12-09-2014


C.K. Williams 05-25-07


Susan B.A. Somers-Willett 06-29-07




L. Lamar Wilson 11-18-2014


David Wojahn 11-18-2013


Charles Wright 01-27-07


Robert Wrigley 10-11-2010


Robert Wrigley 08-17-07


Robert Wrigley 04-09-07


Robert Wrigley 02-03-07


Matthew Yeager 02-02-2017


Jake Adam York 10-02-2012


Katherine Young 11-04-2015