fall 2015
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageSaturday Night Charles Springer
the neighbors knew i divined water Hell is hot Allison DeLauer
A Fire Hydrant on Camino de la Amapola Good to See You Eleanor Kedney
The Day Everyone Realized Ron Riekki
A Monday The Devil Valentina Cano
Can't Stomach Mitchell Grabois
a rose is a rose is a rose manhattan Nikki Reimer
Why, And for What Purpose Is There Something Ace Bogess
In the Cyberspace Icicle Changming Yuan
Yellow Flowers The World Dream Ann Filemyr
Fault Vodka / Blame Juice Jamie Sharpe
(Ouverture) Garry Thomas Morse
Darkening Over Still Water Richard King Perkins II
The Insidious Susurration A Conversation Marie-Andree Auclair
Brains Lost to the Earth Melissa Nelson
QED A Moth In Rain Christopher Patton
Girl I Girl II Carolyn Supinka
The Stale Cold Smell of Morning Angela Rebrec
Word on the Street Henry Rappaport
revenge/reincarnation annie ross
Alcohol Fast-slow Continuum Peycho Kanev
The Story of Chitin Giri Zoe Dagneault
what do you talk about desire derives pleasure aren't we missing every thing gary lundy
A Conversation Between Image-Makers
What you write is only self-reflection, my painter-sister says
with a slanted smile, all art is self-portrait.
She snags my shield with an uncanny knack:
—am I another unveiled painting hanging on the wall
isn’t she there too—
Don’t we choose our interpretation? I say.
I inhale atoms from her breath exhale some of my own.
Mine, hers, inaccurate possessives.
We transmit anonymous molecules
from fighters sparring
from saints some love, to each other.
The air grazes our vulnerability.
She lifts her chin dams the wet shimmer behind her lower eyelids.
Children, she says, disappear an iota at a time
that’s why
I painted my girl walking away.