RURAL GOTHIC

by Despy Boutris

Loneliness thick as the fields of wheat. Wheat I walk through
daily, scent of heat and silt. It shimmers in the breeze,
 
the sun unfurling over the hills. I …

Call to Adventure

by Dane Slutzky

After the car accident I bought the game :: now when I close my eyes I see the cliff-sides and dense tree cover, the fog shrouded island and the shimmering …

Fires

For Willa

by Cleo Qian

My mother calls about a new house
they might move to, there were legal issues,
but also a big lot.
Won’t the fires affect California
property values, I ask, also …

HUNTER GATHERERS

by Daniel Tobin

All this late morning in the newly winnowed trees
squirrels are chirring, as though each one inside
had a miniature fan rotating urgently,
the impossibly rapid rpms of their language.

I …

READING EMMA GOLDMAN

by Florencia Milito

As an antidote to fear,
with the yellowed desperation of the shipwrecked,
as a way of conjuring Spirit, its flickering green flame.

 
 

LEYENDO A EMMA GOLDMAN

Como antídoto al miedo,

Climate (1)

by Sheila Black

My gift in the new silence
 
is the old silence. To see myself
 
in an armful of swords or the person beneath
 
who curls one hand as …

Family Stone

by Tobi Kassim

When they asked my daddy for id I showed them mine.
When we needed blades & generators to light the granite
Factory’s operations. I vouched my name for those rentals,

Soneto LXIV

by Camilo Roldán

Dos esqueletos en un solo cuerpo
Buscan acomodar sus huesos
Y todos los golpes que les ubican
Sus caderas que menean solas
Dos esqueletos en un solo cuerpo
Un esqueleto …

Urban Nature Site #11

by Jane Medved

There is strength in numbers, as shown
by the return of cyclamens, nodding

their purple heads along the path.
I try not to smash them, there are only

three patches of …

The Hull of the Muscadine Grape

by Alayna Powell

In the middle
of something. I exist:
barely and bulb-like.

An idea that is nothing
but mass. Before it’s been
given any thought,
but after its
conception …

IN THE BEGINNING

by Averill Curdy

Was it only the mild indecision
to postpone lunch and turn,
planning to catch our breath
just as Lake Michigan’s gilding
dulled to the shading of a moment—
unremarkable, transient, …

When It Was Time

by Tacey M. Atsitty

I.

It was the Time of Few Photos,
in a day when there were more

of us. Really, only a handful
of copies with our faces exist

from that time. …