Rex Wilder

By Rex Wilder April 14, 2022

I know what it’s like to hold my hands in a summer river as I kneel . . .

By Rex Wilder September 16, 2021

Fill up the tub of morning with your mist.

By Rex Wilder April 1, 2021

The dolphins I behold out my picture window . . .

By Rex Wilder October 29, 2020

Cumulus, Fog, and Stratus, as you scud…

By Rex Wilder April 30, 2020

Dolphins stitch along the republic, for which they swim beyond the rock…

By Rex Wilder January 23, 2020

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade stops right in front of us, as my wife props our new baby at her breast to feed…

By Rex Wilder April 4, 2019

‘Against the Eden green and the densities of the avocados…’

By Rex Wilder October 25, 2018

“I try to learn the prose of life, but my slavish reproduction of its speech is wooden…”

By Rex Wilder August 9, 2018

He was the last of the great romantic mopes . . .

Culture

By Rex Wilder March 16, 2018

This poem appears in the April 2 print issue of NR.