For two weeks I wish Marta dead. With every breath I take in. I am not proud of this.
Featured Content
You Seem Really Lonely
Spitting Image: An Interview with Heather C. Sweeney
by Katherine Fallon
It’s more of a multifaceted imagined “I,” not just me speaking to one person. It’s thinking about my multiple selves and how we contain all these layers and perform different “I”s in this world.
Evening Falls
by Michelle Bonczek
“The main point was to eliminate the difference between what is seen from outside the window and what is seen from inside”—Rene Magritte On one pane’s shard in the living room, the evening sun perfect as the evening sun made artful in the window frame. In our short-tempered house, the windows never broke […]
Black Friday Letter to Mom
by Kamal E. Kimball
Morning bangs on the door like sadness or a man falling down hungover halls. I wish I were a bastard, reared on jasmine and whistling in the bathroom, bright as Christmas satin. I’d rather lace, cold cream, wallpaper with lemons, high heels in the school’s hallway. You wiped my cheeks with […]
Toast with Existential Dread
by Kamal E. Kimball
Friend, come here and touch my hem. You be the wind, I’ll be the hollow thing singing. I’m falling in love with every arm hair on every rider on this machine. The man in tube socks, ball-capped, reminds me of my father. How someday I’ll miss the old bastard (who I look […]
Articulating the Inarticulable: An Interview with Kayleb Rae Candrilli on their latest collection Water I Won’t Touch
by Robin Gow
I want to find ways to connect what maybe seems unrelated, until they are tied inexorably in the world of the poem or the book.
Row J, #28
by Sean McNie
never be sorry for who you are you told me so I drove to your grave for the second time on your birth- day a half year after. I traced the margin of unmarked rows remembering the elm you- ‘re buried beneath from that uncanny summer before moving between the headstones treading lightly the edges […]
Cryptids
by Marcia Hurlow
Lucky has stopped barking at the squirrels. The sun just risen over the horizon, he’s no longer running across the field after the barn swallows who were diving at him, herding him away from their nests. Lucky has disappeared into the woods, silent except for the scrape and snap of cottonwood saplings, bird […]
Ship of Dreams (Sueños del Atlántico)
by Ezequiel Naya, translated from the Spanish by Sam Simon
In a boat that drifts through the South Atlantic, close to what we as Argentines call the Malvinas, and that on English maps they figure as the Falklands, I face the important though sad task of searching for and rescuing the dreams of Argentine soldiers (sometimes we also rescue English dreams) that were lost in […]
The History of a Window Overlooking the Wetlands
by Kelly Gray
By the white tile of tub, water becomes the smell of ceanothus morning. Cow bellow mist slinks the soft hand of hill. Wood collects moisture, swells against steam. Drag your finger across glass. Below, a trellis of jasmine. A library, an owl beneath bell jar. A brick oven, built in burst of cala lily. A […]
