fall 2015
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageA Monday The Devil Valentina Cano
Girl I Girl II Carolyn Supinka
Yellow Flowers The World Dream Ann Filemyr
revenge/reincarnation annie ross
what do you talk about desire derives pleasure aren't we missing every thing gary lundy
the neighbors knew i divined water Hell is hot Allison DeLauer
In the Cyberspace Icicle Changming Yuan
Saturday Night Charles Springer
Why, And for What Purpose Is There Something Ace Bogess
The Insidious Susurration A Conversation Marie-Andree Auclair
QED A Moth In Rain Christopher Patton
Brains Lost to the Earth Melissa Nelson
a rose is a rose is a rose manhattan Nikki Reimer
Fault Vodka / Blame Juice Jamie Sharpe
(Ouverture) Garry Thomas Morse
Can't Stomach Mitchell Grabois
Word on the Street Henry Rappaport
Alcohol Fast-slow Continuum Peycho Kanev
Darkening Over Still Water Richard King Perkins II
The Story of Chitin Giri Zoe Dagneault
The Day Everyone Realized Ron Riekki
A Fire Hydrant on Camino de la Amapola Good to See You Eleanor Kedney
The Stale Cold Smell of Morning Angela Rebrec
Brains Lost to the Earth
Here beneath the violets
in the garden of yes and no
lies a medium-sized crow.
Oil-slick feathers turned to slime
and body brittle, breaking,
its beak’s edges bare to the bone—
and somewhere within these
spindling mulberry trees the breeze
remembers its curved wings’ cruise
along the airways, the pathways
only it knew from perch to perch
and through the ever-growing
branches.
Here, a mole trembled. There,
a fading man recalled the nursery
myths he was told as a child:
one for sorrow, two for joy.
He scratched his loose temple
and thought about glint quartz pebbles
left on the edge of the birdbath
there, beneath the mulberry bows.
Here lies the worms beneath the violets
who ate the soil that was the brain
that held the thoughts no
philosopher or poet could ever see—
the caviar-gleamed eyes,
black like the bottom,
ground down into grit.