fall 2021
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageSomewhere within Kostanay, Kazakhstan Justin Timbol
Upon Watching the Rotation of the Earth
Charlotte Vermue Peters
Say It Delicious
Berry-Picking
Laura Cesarco Eglin
Late August at the End of the World
Bren Simmers
No One Knows How to Be Good
Emily Kedar
What We Carry on a Pilgrimage
Granada, Take Three
Elena Johnson
On the Straightaway to the Rockies
Great Grandpa's Grain Elevator
A Nova Scotian Night Light
Ryan Smith
When I See Lake Water
Kristin LaFollette
i decay, bro
erica hiroko isomura
Making the Most of Our Voices
Ken Victor
Boy With Orange
Phillip Watts Brown
She's a Pretty Bird
Susan Zimmerman
Between Then and Then
Millicent Borges Accardi
latchkey fragments
Frances Boyle
The Graveyard Metaphor for Euphoria Kaye Miller
Swans at the Golf Club
Ruth Daniell
A wrist, a wren, a small knife
Ellen Stone
Granada, Take Three
Where painters succumb to overwhelm,
I attempt to finish a poem.
In every direction, possibilities—
each rooftop spire, each mountain peak.
A 13th century Moorish palace,
the splendour of its fountains alone.
At sundown, each cluster of blackbirds
calling from the branches of an alder.
In a cavern filled with tables,
a musician, eighty-three,
belts out a cante jondo—
the song is older than the singer.
On this cobblestone street, a plaque:
Here lies the home of Enrique Morente.
Here lived Federico García Lorca.
Here is the carmen of Manuel de Falla.
And within his home, a smaller plaque:
Here is the wooden mechanism he built
to roll perfect cigarettes without touching them.