fall 2015
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageIn the Cyberspace Icicle Changming Yuan
what do you talk about
desire derives pleasure
aren't we missing every thing
gary lundy
A Fire Hydrant on Camino de la Amapola
Good to See You
Eleanor Kedney
(Ouverture) Garry Thomas Morse
the neighbors knew i divined water
Hell is hot
Allison DeLauer
Word on the Street
Henry Rappaport
Girl I
Girl II
Carolyn Supinka
A Monday The Devil Valentina Cano
Fault Vodka / Blame Juice Jamie Sharpe
The Story of Chitin Giri Zoe Dagneault
a rose is a rose is a rose manhattan Nikki Reimer
Saturday Night
Charles Springer
Yellow Flowers
The World Dream
Ann Filemyr
QED A Moth In Rain Christopher Patton
The Day Everyone Realized Ron Riekki
revenge/reincarnation annie ross
Brains Lost to the Earth Melissa Nelson
Alcohol
Fast-slow Continuum
Peycho Kanev
Why, And for What Purpose
Is There Something
Ace Bogess
The Insidious Susurration
A Conversation
Marie-Andree Auclair
The Stale Cold Smell of Morning
Angela Rebrec
Can't Stomach Mitchell Grabois
Darkening Over Still Water Richard King Perkins II
Girl II
She is that drink I stir. That field we pass
on the way home every night. It is a clearing
rimmed with white birches, stark lines of tree bodies
like steam escaping from cracks in the soft earth.
She once said she saw a phoenix rise from that clearing,
and even though she was making it up we could see it too.
Think of little girls picturing a phoenix.
Who told us about these birds on fire?
I didn’t picture it on fire, but glad.
Whoever gets to burn like that must be glad,
rising like clockwork. That field.
I think it would be cool. I think it would be soft as blue velvet,
impervious to wrinkles and time.
The fabric of that field stretches in my mind,
offers its body as a blanket for me to press my cheek to.
It’s a place I’ve never been, but I want to return to, again and again,
until I have a reason to stop, and let myself in.