fall 2015
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageThe Stale Cold Smell of Morning Angela Rebrec
Brains Lost to the Earth Melissa Nelson
the neighbors knew i divined water Hell is hot Allison DeLauer
revenge/reincarnation annie ross
In the Cyberspace Icicle Changming Yuan
Word on the Street Henry Rappaport
Darkening Over Still Water Richard King Perkins II
Can't Stomach Mitchell Grabois
A Monday The Devil Valentina Cano
(Ouverture) Garry Thomas Morse
what do you talk about desire derives pleasure aren't we missing every thing gary lundy
The Insidious Susurration A Conversation Marie-Andree Auclair
QED A Moth In Rain Christopher Patton
Alcohol Fast-slow Continuum Peycho Kanev
Yellow Flowers The World Dream Ann Filemyr
Girl I Girl II Carolyn Supinka
Saturday Night Charles Springer
Fault Vodka / Blame Juice Jamie Sharpe
The Day Everyone Realized Ron Riekki
Why, And for What Purpose Is There Something Ace Bogess
A Fire Hydrant on Camino de la Amapola Good to See You Eleanor Kedney
The Story of Chitin Giri Zoe Dagneault
a rose is a rose is a rose manhattan Nikki Reimer
Is There Something You Are Not Telling Me?
question asked by Greg Leatherman
I sit on a stone bench & let the smoke paralyze me
as I watch a minor spider balance on its silk
between two weeds, a black swallowtail
draw a magic-marker streak at my peripheral.
It’s not that I don’t want to share these things—
mine in the context of my being there.
What should I say about each forced pause
to take nature in, five minutes at a time?
Just now, a doe ambled up the road,
three speckled fawns following close
in duckling single-file. The last limped,
wrestling with death to keep her mother’s pace.
Forgive me if I didn’t plan to speak of this.
My hand grew tired from cradling its butt.
My pen fell asleep on a table in the house.