Something sliding down the tree. A rat or the moon. No ursae, no heroes left up there. The sky is unnavigable. Of the few stars, you suspect a few are satellites, snapping photos, triangulating in soundlessness. Resist imagining adorable aluminum insectoids endlessly skimming the outer atmosphere, plaintively beeping. Not everything is cute. Not everything is […]
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Kirsten Kashock: “For William (August 28, 2017)”
You had some extra you said. You didn’t expect as much, to last, and then there was her. She was more than you hoped to want. Never saw a man feeling luckier. Something old- timey about you guys: Em breaking bread with deans and bards and you baking gold- en loaves of words like cherish. […]
Ryan Meyer: “The Mill Where Ghosts Are Made”
Each spring, I visit the mill where ghosts are made. I first survey the grounds, not to inspect or investigate, but to frame what I claim to know about existence. As I make my way through the main room, an electroplated manor of cool machinery, I make sure to learn what I can about humanity […]
Emily Wallis Hughes: “Inge Inge Ingeborg Bachmann”
Inge my mother started smoking when she was eleven Inge my aunt died from lung cancer Inge how can I pass through the netherworld? Inge I still like the smell of good tobacco Inge we cannot escape history I will put out your cigarette Inge Do I collect too many private objects? My grandfather swore […]
Stella Padnos: “Houseguests”
The houseguest was not a houseguest, I mistakenly invited him as my distraction, as my soiled laundry, as my manhole with steam unquaintly rising. The houseguest lived largely inside my telephone, my cellular phone, the number belonging solely to me, intruding through my smallest, most forgettable spaces. I met him at the playground, a married […]
Emma Hine “I Wake Up In the Painting by Rousseau”
This time he, the sleeping figure, I, the lion, my pupils round in their egg-whites, night-wind angling his scent dunewards. He has surprised me. I never expected a human in the sand like a god fallen asleep, a bare-throated mandolin on the pillow beside him. I smell the striped shoulder of his robe. Don’t know […]