In “Orange Roses,” included in her 2013 book of the same title, Lucy Ives writes: “Reason is a language. In this sense it is no more or less perfect than any other language.” This statement about reason suggests that reason is merely an option, among many equal competitors; that there are methods other than reason … Continue reading
My mama named me Tolerance But I named my tongue Silence The fleshy epoxy that holds these teeth tight Thick with regret I wanted to tell you, you see I was born in February But Silence was born when his shadow consumed Mine on the wall I was always so sick with fear But I … Continue reading
Corelle B. Owl, 24, of Cedar Rapids, died Thursday after a fall from one of the highest extremities, Mt. Countre. Mr. B Owl was most known for his reliability. His friends have all said that he could handle the responsibility of ensuring clean and safe nutrients for anyone who called upon him. B. Owl is … Continue reading
Please re-read your taser’s manual, since I am sure you did not intend for me to be nearly paralyzed. While it is an honor for me to have licked the sole of your boot, I regret my teeth were unable to remove the gum from your left heel. I know my current lack of response … Continue reading
Wheelhouse was never part of my father’s lexicon though I do remember him using the synonym bailiwick; I think he liked the click at the end, the slight touch of baritone drama in Cracking down on guys like that (referring to a local wife beater) would definitely be part of my bailiwick. He said it … Continue reading
Everything was as dirty as a carwash bathroom and pop-tops cut the light littering the sides of Route 1, in those days still a long path of concrete sections we kathunked along in our Galaxie 500, my father driving, alive, the sweat- -stain halo burned into the upholstery above his curly head. I had no … Continue reading
That old groundhog of war within us came out of its silos and bunkers to look around. And all who saw it lifted it up– and what had crawled out of us would not crawl back in. Continue reading
on Nunscape, by Leonora Carrington Feathered devildactyl mothers its big blue egg. Give me a big blue omelet, breakfast full of food coloring, the kind kids like that mortifies the mother tongue. A pteratopped column plants one painted corner while the sea scene flirts with fluttering off on the gale-grey jubilant swell, like a washed … Continue reading
She never knew the Metro in July, the cold composted air coursing down the cars, the animal stench blent coarsely with perfume, the beautiful eyes like light on light in faces fixed with time’s tattoos. She looked in luxury; her skin shone Sicilian sun still at a century’s length, undulled at death by days’ decline … Continue reading
1. Stake the cross, flying needle patches those office-grey slacks Called the seamstress, fled his roost he traded clothes to make tracks While she stitched up pants to fill a gap, always coming back 2. Fast letters and grounded flight and problems flee open road Drunkards drowning in tankards but he skips pebbles to next … Continue reading
Coe Review 