fall 2015
Table of Contents
Return to Home Pagethe neighbors knew i divined water Hell is hot Allison DeLauer
Alcohol Fast-slow Continuum Peycho Kanev
Darkening Over Still Water Richard King Perkins II
A Monday The Devil Valentina Cano
Girl I Girl II Carolyn Supinka
Word on the Street Henry Rappaport
what do you talk about desire derives pleasure aren't we missing every thing gary lundy
The Stale Cold Smell of Morning Angela Rebrec
Can't Stomach Mitchell Grabois
Fault Vodka / Blame Juice Jamie Sharpe
The Insidious Susurration A Conversation Marie-Andree Auclair
QED A Moth In Rain Christopher Patton
In the Cyberspace Icicle Changming Yuan
Why, And for What Purpose Is There Something Ace Bogess
a rose is a rose is a rose manhattan Nikki Reimer
(Ouverture) Garry Thomas Morse
Yellow Flowers The World Dream Ann Filemyr
The Day Everyone Realized Ron Riekki
Brains Lost to the Earth Melissa Nelson
Saturday Night Charles Springer
The Story of Chitin Giri Zoe Dagneault
A Fire Hydrant on Camino de la Amapola Good to See You Eleanor Kedney
revenge/reincarnation annie ross
(Ouverture)
Why no dotted rhythms whenever we arrive
late eludes, why no fanfare to match a monarch
grappling with gout, a light march
to say the least—
no time to talk either, no unique chamber
full of new chamber music, nods and knowing
looks over such complexifications—ah, little
snub nose you’ll be the death of me—or one of those
classical hiccoughs that nearly makes you drop
that utensil you are not holding properly—
immoral as ever, feigning an immortal air
one may observe in a pretty
ostentatious bust, somehow fishing
Versailles out of faint salmon run
what is the harm then in playing
impresario or minor ‘Noble
Savage’, like any petit-bourgeois
setting up shop as Louis XIV
with opera flooding ‘Fauxhemia’
to the point of financial ruin, or
d’Artagnan leading away our own
Ministers, not picturesque enough
for the pictures, tending to believe
Lulli would handle it “gangnam style”
yet still unwilling to shell out royalties
for singing along when everything is free anyway, Ovid’s
frogs in the fountain sole reminders you might have towed
the line—
Bach
being
us, being too français We, being
too Deutsch too un-Nation-y
why no dotted why no besotted
rhythms hymns
why no too
luxuriantly plotted uxorious
hyacinth in tone
the mottle of Molière’s lungs
in Le Malade Imaginaire
a light march (alla
to match marcia)
flapping monarch
molto troppo
too something too many
notes