Two Poems by Craig Kittner

Methods of Cultivation

my father
whenever he moved to a new home,
which he did ten times in the years
we were both alive,
would plant the things he liked
and transform the landscape
as he saw fit

myself
I have moved twenty times
in those same years
never planting anything
in the ground – preferring
pots and planters – seeking
the satisfaction of annuals
not the legacy of perennials

my father
died ten weeks ago.
today, I went to the back of my property
where things grow as they see fit,
I dug up a cedar sapling
and moved it to a place
where I wanted a tree


I’ll Have Another

it’s not the small poisons
that I dose myself with
that’s the problem

(all my kind imbibe
you should see my cousins
and you know how my heroes behaved)

it’s the expectation that
when I kill the things
gnawing at my spirit
I’ll continue unharmed.

my father got out
of that small town
and I went through school
marked as “gifted”

I should want more
than to sit on a bench
and watch reflections chase clouds
around the lake . . .so I’m told


Craig Kittner was born in Canton, Ohio in 1968 and took up residence in Wilmington, North Carolina in 2012. Between those two events, he lived in 14 different towns in 8 states and the District of Columbia. He has worked as a gallery director, magazine writer, restaurant owner, and blackjack dealer. Recent publications include Human/Kind Journal, Shot Glass Journal, The Heron’s Nest, and Bones. He currently serves as contest director for the North Carolina Poetry Society. Craig is fond of birds, cats, and rain. . . but rarely writes of cats.

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