TRACHODON 2 features literary writing by some of today's most engaging authors. In "Forked River," Oregon Book Award-winner Scott Nadelson takes us into the offices of the New Jersey state government, and into the heart of a lobbyist whose life is about to change; in "Therapy," Michael Delp explores the high cost of healing through a darkly humorous story; Brian Maxwell shows us the teeming Florida coast through the eyes of a naive but free-thinking young man; essayist Shannon Huffman Polson shows us the rewards and responsibilities of inheriting an Alaskan log cabin; Abby E. Murray contributes two poems "whose personal language is part of that richness we cannot do without" (Marvin Bell); and Nathan Graziano's poem "In Anticipation of My Next Bad Decision" delivers exactly what it promises. Also features black and white photography by Shane Darwent. TRACHODON, A Dinosaur of a Little Magazine, is published twice a year, in March and September. Visit www.trachodon.org for information on subscribing, submitting, or advertising.

In 1976, Wayne State University Press published The Third Coast: Contemporary Michigan Poetry, an anthology that offered a sampling of the best poetry written by Michigan writers. A second Third Coast anthology was published in 1988 with many new poets and a wider range of styles. New Poems from the Third Coast continues that tradition with fifty-six writers from across the state sharing their poetic glimpse of trout streams, schoolrooms, and restaurants, as well as portraits of friends, families, lovers, and life in Michigan.

Although this collection is only a sampling of the rich literary culture alive in Michigan, New Poems from the Third Coast is a lively, and carefully-crafted collection of poems from a variety of Michigan voices. Michael Delp, Conrad Hilberry, and Josie Kearns have balanced the old and the new and combined them in a strong contribution to contemporary poetry.

Readers will find in this collection a glimpse of the preoccupations and passions that are moving these American poets is at the end of the century. Lovers of poetry and students and scholars interested in regional literature will find an exhilarating range of styles in this volume.

Michael Delp conjures with his writing the intense pull of nature on Michiganders and he allows the reader to discover--or rediscover--the marvels of life and sport amidst the Great Lakes. This collection of new work, along with some of Delp's important earlier work, will inspire anyone with a fondness for water, fishing, and Michigan's great outdoors. Delp's writing is richly nuanced and sharply imaged with an authenticity that comes only from someone native to such experiences. His engaging portraits of Michigan, its freshwater landscapes, and their many invocations can function as metaphor for larger philosophical and ecological issues, but the first aim of The Last Good Water is to draw readers back to nature and allow them to relish its splendor. This collection is an important addition to the library of the creative, the ecocritical, and above all, the outdoorsmen and women of the Midwest.

Although the theme is fly fishing, this book is really about the more esoteric, spiritual aspects of fishing. Through his poetry, essays, and short fiction, Delp writes about being haunted by fishing, about being taken over, literally, by the desire to fish and spend time alone on trout streams. He describes the experience as "a pause, a deep breath in the crush of living. It seems incredibly simple, yet trout fishing illuminates an inner life, asks the mind and body to give themselves over to another power: Under the Influence of Water is about moments-how time goes away on a river. It's about waking up and finding out that what runs in your veins is river water mixed with blood. It's also about trying to find the courage to one day stand in a river and admit your life. Delp says that's what happens when you fly fish . . . you get your life back, if only for a few moments. When you go back to your other life, the river is still with you. Ifit's not, then you haven't really been on a river.