From Issue 39.2 Janann Dawkins The chlorophyll remains in leaf: the limbsretain their hair: the trees do not believethe sun will set on them. They think the filmof heat is normal—that it will...
From Issue 1.1 (Spring 1972) Jim Everhard In the darkness the moon opensand there is nothing but lightin the twists of its mind,the unthought of dreamsof dead men bending back toward the...
Jocelyn Johnson They hung that name on you at birth, but Virginia was never your home. Read Nausea by Sartre and give yourself a new one. Trumpet your new name to the liver-spotted washroom mirror,...
Shelley Wood I met Suki in my life-drawing class, back when she’d already quit her job and had all that other shit happen, but still had both boobs. I figured she was working on improving herself...
Kathryne David Gargano the boy says: devils cannot move human semen locally! he cries it in the streets, flogging his papers / so sensational, this boy— he forgets so earnestly the way women are...
From Issue 7.3 Ed Lynskey Call me a gravedigger.By night I shovel themoist moments awaytill the empty depthcan hold my heart, my injured heart.Still she lies like a smirking shadowin the bottom of...
From Issue 29.2 Marilyn F. Moriarty The only excess on Inishmore was in the people — in their talking, in their music — and last night what music there was with noisy old ballads, raucous...
Katie Willingham 1. BBC News, March 5th: Scientists publish the most detailed brain scans ever taken. Images of the first sixty-eight subjects take up about two terabytes of computer memory, enough...
Christian A. Winn Yesterday the boy I pretend is David phoned. “Hi, Mom,” he said. “Happy birthday.” It was not my birthday, and I told him so, as I always do. “I miss you...
Jenny Xie I learn about Dustin’s death through Facebook. I am at work, taking a lunch of grilled chicken and broccolini at my desk, a diet prescribed by my pregnant Trisha, who now insists that I...
