A combination of heredity and inaccessible causes having weighted me down psychically to the point of moving in a trudge even when the going’s level, I try not to glower or say cynical things of the sort that led a colleague to call me spring-loaded on no. It’s a feat of impersonation to avoid the … Continue reading
Category Archives: fall 2018
Planning an Escape Through a Pinhole of Light—Kevin Le Master
We could not separate his death from the multi-colored carpet. His bones , a disintegration of the sound any creature makes when it seeks finality. His single orb opened and closed like an SOS sent from a sinking ship; the only indication of his fight for a fleeting breath. If only he had headed for … Continue reading
Notes on International Communication—Marne Wilson
I. Thirty years ago, my brother went to Egypt. Contact was difficult, but we managed it. Some Sunday afternoons we tried to call him. My little-girl fingers loved to dial the phone, spinning the wheel to each number in the long sequence and then starting all over again when we got cut off. Most of … Continue reading
Skin—Ronald James Pelias
It’s not the knife, the blood, or the wound, but the thin red slit settling into scar. It’s not the blemish, the mark, or the finality, but the reminder two bodies connected. It wasn’t the flesh, the raw, or the deep reach, but the dead stillness, her hand, my bare chest. Continue reading
Spare Change—Carl Auerbach
By now, it’s become a ritual that we perform together—the subway beggar and myself. He sits there huddled on his fragile black milk crate, sad-eyed, beaten down, his tattered upturned cap held in front of him between his knees, loaded up with nickels, dimes, and quarters, sometimes even a dollar bill or two, into which … Continue reading
Bronze Shoes on a Budapest Quayside—Elizabeth Weir
Jewish shoes, weary, worn and worked, broken walled, broken-willed shoes. Buttoned and buckled shoes, ribboned shoes and strapped, fashion shoes, pointed and patterned, sensible shoes, a man’s battered work boots. Knee boots, torn and fallen, children’s shoes, paired and single. A woman’s shoes, small-boy shoes beside her’s; one heeled dancing shoe tipped over, a man’s … Continue reading
The Cold—Eric Greinke
On an early morning in March a gourmet chef walking his dog discovered two frozen corpses beneath an expressway underpass. One wore four layers of clothing, the other wore just three. They were stiff & frost-bitten, fingers & toes a pale, alien blue, lips white as a high lone cloud. A nearby shopping cart held … Continue reading
Heat Waves—Eric Greinke
A prolonged heat wave brings order to our days. Here in the northern woods we’re not used to hot weather. We write letters through cool morning, swim through the hot afternoons, toss through warm nights. A big red fire engine blares down our two-lane road. Its tires burn rubber, leaving black brush strokes as it … Continue reading
Normalcy Corrects—Katrina Denzer
Normalcy corrects. Don’t worry, dear We can drain Those sinful thoughts From that rotten brain. Fill it up with thoughts of Y. Why? Don’t be naïve, You are Eve. With synapses wired to desire Him. Continue reading
Before You Eat Your Poke Bowl—Amy Lee Kite
Sweating, laughing right there, that’s the point, the spot, the purpose of this encounter I was so eager to have, to hold, to inhale— quickly on the bathroom floor, from my knees, I gaze up at you standing in the dimly lit room, I joke that you are kinglike as your skin reflects the light … Continue reading