fall 2015
Table of Contents
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Word on the Street
Henry Rappaport
Darkening Over Still Water Richard King Perkins II
The Story of Chitin Giri Zoe Dagneault
In the Cyberspace Icicle Changming Yuan
Yellow Flowers
The World Dream
Ann Filemyr
Fault Vodka / Blame Juice Jamie Sharpe
a rose is a rose is a rose manhattan Nikki Reimer
A Fire Hydrant on Camino de la Amapola
Good to See You
Eleanor Kedney
Saturday Night
Charles Springer
what do you talk about
desire derives pleasure
aren't we missing every thing
gary lundy
Why, And for What Purpose
Is There Something
Ace Bogess
(Ouverture) Garry Thomas Morse
Girl I
Girl II
Carolyn Supinka
Can't Stomach Mitchell Grabois
The Insidious Susurration
A Conversation
Marie-Andree Auclair
The Day Everyone Realized Ron Riekki
QED A Moth In Rain Christopher Patton
A Monday The Devil Valentina Cano
The Stale Cold Smell of Morning
Angela Rebrec
the neighbors knew i divined water
Hell is hot
Allison DeLauer
Brains Lost to the Earth Melissa Nelson
revenge/reincarnation annie ross
Alcohol
Fast-slow Continuum
Peycho Kanev
Is There Something You Are Not Telling Me?
question asked by Greg Leatherman
I sit on a stone bench & let the smoke paralyze me
as I watch a minor spider balance on its silk
between two weeds, a black swallowtail
draw a magic-marker streak at my peripheral.
It’s not that I don’t want to share these things—
mine in the context of my being there.
What should I say about each forced pause
to take nature in, five minutes at a time?
Just now, a doe ambled up the road,
three speckled fawns following close
in duckling single-file. The last limped,
wrestling with death to keep her mother’s pace.
Forgive me if I didn’t plan to speak of this.
My hand grew tired from cradling its butt.
My pen fell asleep on a table in the house.