The same old story: We’re the grass, and they’re the feet. We’re hors d’oeuvres, and they are teeth. We stand in a worshipful line outside the Hall as they file past in yellow rain- slickers, giggling like naughty kids. We know our place by how many of them speak to us, how long. We find […]
Contributors 67
T.B. Rudy: Bridges
For every bridge that’s marked with paint, scribbled messages proving love with algebraic signs and aerosol devotions of forever, there’s a boy who’s waited up all night to sneak out, alone, cargo pockets rattling with pressure, a navy jogging hood pulled over eyes that never glance at headlights flying below, his teenage bicep flexing, arm […]
Jessy Randall: Three Martians Learn to Make Marshmallows
“I have been reading too much science fiction,” he sighed. Giant feelers grew out of his penis. “I hate it when there is no dialogue,” she quipped. Her perky alabaster breasts stood at attention. Her bionic alabaster breasts made zim-zim noises. He sighed. The Martians were approaching. They had space suits. They had a space […]
Simon Perchik: Two Poems
* Falling where the sun refills, its light from somewhere in this darkness someplace near the floor, your footsteps eaten as shadows have always known — ceilings are ice and stone and hunger and valleys swallowing lush streams and songs. Your shadow is thinner now and still I can’t loosen it, not even at night […]
Kate Northrop: Brides: 1
They must vanish of course who must go early to the arms of grooms. They must take weight, who were momentarily brilliant, crepuscular even, shining — Through a meadow, a window, a promise. When the sun sets over the empty beach the brides follow each other, one by one, into the slow drift of the […]
Carley Moore: On Being Low
How are we the underside of snow? Both on the street and in the trees? I saw your shadow. I saw you go. You are underneath the car. You are now one in a series of larger keys. How are you the underside of snow? You are the hat and the pilot. Low replaces low. […]