fall 2017
Table of Contents
Return to Home Page* (It was a lake, used to bodies :islands) * (Arm over arm you expect) Simon Perchik
Ode to a Desiccated Olive
(Love is easier the headless way)
James Cagney
qualifications
for your consideration
Laura Yan
Pamplemousse Dominique Bernier-Cormier
cold bright waves for sorrow leaf kotasek
Somebody Else's Heroes
Small Change
Jocko Benoit
Familiar
Pianissimo
Jennifer van Alstyne
Rebelling Unrest Errata Dani Spinosa
The Travel Section Ghost Train Christopher Levenson
Stereotypes like like i love you Andrew Warner
Persuasion
Freedom of Speech
Emma Winsor Wood
Ecstasy Like Water to Soften Leather Jasmine Sky
Limits
New York
Brian Jerrold Koester
Unsolicited Relationship Advice
Erin Kirsh
What It Is About to Do Le Mouton Noir Dessa Bayrock
The Malice in My Footsteps
Conyer Clayton
Persuasion
I’d like to be a minimalist, but I’m not
is another prophecy I fulfill
by creating it. When my husband and I first met
(I’m one of those who mentions her lovers too much
is another), we debated the existence of the self: I believed, he
disagreed. So I related to him what my parents had related to me whenever reminded of my lust for accuracy:
When Emma was a child, we worried she’d never speak.
Then, one day, age 3, reading a book with the babysitter—
Look at this little bear’s feet, the sitter said, pointing to the picture.
Those aren’t feet, Emma snapped. Those are paws.
See? (I said to C.) That’s me.
Ancient Greeks occasionally used the base of a ruined column as an anchor when they had nothing else
to moor the boat, he replied, unfazed.
I: Yes, precisely—the base of a column.
And he: A ruined column.
[...] 1
1 The silence on this subject lasted a few weeks but ended before the wedding, one clean February day, when I turned to him and said: Maybe there is no self, but also maybe, for me, there is.