Darren C. Demaree

Darren C. Demaree is the author of twenty-one poetry collections, most recently “in defense of the goat that continues to wander towards the certain doom of the cliff”, (forthcoming from April Gloaming, February 2024).  He is the recipient of a Greater Columbus Arts Council Grant, an Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award, the Louise Bogan Award from Trio House Press, and the Nancy Dew Taylor Award from Emrys Journal.  He is the Editor-in-Chief of the Best of the Net Anthology and the Managing Editor of Ovenbird Poetry.  He is currently working in the Columbus Metropolitan Library system.


Twitter: @d_c_demaree

Instagram: darrencdemaree

Emily as We Listen to an Aged Martin Sexton Play “Glory Bound” in Her Hometown of Newark, Ohio


There is one blue

Emily. There are three

that refuse to wear


more than the sheer

wind. All four

of them get lost


where they grew up.

There is no chance

to take. They eat


the flowers

of every season.

We need no repair.


All the song can do

is frame winter.

They are an allegory


of Spring. Ohio

is their fantasy. I love

these dark glories


& here I am, tying

up my own hands

before she can ask.


Darren C. Demaree

Darren C. Demaree is the author of twenty-one poetry collections, most recently “in defense of the goat that continues to wander towards the certain doom of the cliff”, (forthcoming from April Gloaming, February 2024).  He is the recipient of a Greater Columbus Arts Council Grant, an Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award, the Louise Bogan Award from Trio House Press, and the Nancy Dew Taylor Award from Emrys Journal.  He is the Editor-in-Chief of the Best of the Net Anthology and the Managing Editor of Ovenbird Poetry.  He is currently working in the Columbus Metropolitan Library system.

Darren C. Demaree

Emily as We Listen to an Aged Martin Sexton Play “Glory Bound” in Her Hometown of Newark, Ohio


There is one blue

Emily. There are three

that refuse to wear


more than the sheer

wind. All four

of them get lost


where they grew up.

There is no chance

to take. They eat

the flowers

of every season.

We need no repair.


All the song can do

is frame winter.

They are an allegory


of Spring. Ohio

is their fantasy. I love

these dark glories


& here I am, tying

up my own hands

before she can ask.


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