fall 2015
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageA Monday The Devil Valentina Cano
The Day Everyone Realized Ron Riekki
Yellow Flowers The World Dream Ann Filemyr
Darkening Over Still Water Richard King Perkins II
(Ouverture) Garry Thomas Morse
The Insidious Susurration A Conversation Marie-Andree Auclair
Alcohol Fast-slow Continuum Peycho Kanev
A Fire Hydrant on Camino de la Amapola Good to See You Eleanor Kedney
The Story of Chitin Giri Zoe Dagneault
Fault Vodka / Blame Juice Jamie Sharpe
In the Cyberspace Icicle Changming Yuan
Why, And for What Purpose Is There Something Ace Bogess
what do you talk about desire derives pleasure aren't we missing every thing gary lundy
Can't Stomach Mitchell Grabois
The Stale Cold Smell of Morning Angela Rebrec
a rose is a rose is a rose manhattan Nikki Reimer
revenge/reincarnation annie ross
the neighbors knew i divined water Hell is hot Allison DeLauer
Saturday Night Charles Springer
Brains Lost to the Earth Melissa Nelson
Girl I Girl II Carolyn Supinka
Word on the Street Henry Rappaport
QED A Moth In Rain Christopher Patton
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.