Elizabeth J. Wenger when i think of quentin tarantino i think of revenge dressed in tight yellow leather carving a katana through the script. blood squirts like hershey’s syrup from the screen //...
Adam Houle I swear I’ll leave your ass in Tennesseewith the trumpet vines and BarcaLoungersslumping under carports. Maybe at a BPnear the bottom of a hill, where a state roadcurves that way and a...
Laura Meyer We don’t talk about babies anymoreAnd we haven’t been drunk together in ten years. My friend tells me about a strategy for receiving long-term care in your home.I tell myself: You...
Kathryn Bratt-Pfotenhauer It is the season of thinning out the herd, and I am leaving Brooklyn. October is in the city: bright colorful leaves and a track fire on the J, stalling all trains.Over...
Michael Montlack and I learned there was no castto mend a spirit, no flashlightto guide you out of a cave that dark,my older sister unwilling to bathefor weeks, my parents unwillingto make her, her...
Cat Newton And Martin told Dan he was going to wear a top hat/ and Amaris told Alexa that she’d be in that knee length dress that has started to remind me of death/ and Reggie told me that he...
Martin Shapiro Hardtops sit sun-roasted in rowson a plain of asphalt: at its far end,a megachurch in session. My Ford Feo’s a.c. eats horsepower.Eliseo doesn’t sweat this jungle...
