Outside is the rain half the world waits for as much as we hate it at times; it gives us whatever we can gather from the energy that is frozen and makes up the world I swore I’d never live in. But like everything else it passes on its way to teaching me which way to turn. In the meantime, left with nothing but dreams and memory, I’m practicing for the death we all know is coming, that none of us know how to face. I keep trying the prayers and other means as if each could be a plot twist in the novel I keep wishing I could write. All I want to end with is the person who points down the street.
Directions
Further Reading
CRASH & COURSE by Elizabeth Switaj
eventually we found the plane settled in a sea of glass shards between bright-blood fish who settled on our skin to suck whatever remained unfocused on retrieval & so converted instinct into genius of desire you took so many feet with you to wander, blend your slender bones (less skin) into starved processions too tired […]
The Past by Henryk Cierniak
(Translated from Polish by John Guzlowski)
The house was nothing just a building site, thirteen years ago Remember it? It’s still nothing my son is sixteen How can I forget? He’s nothing but an ordinary boy actually a bit troublesome instead of putting up insulation he and his friends go to the village he walks like he’s some kind of god […]
STATEMENT BY THE ARTIST notes on life and work by Robert MacCready
My career began as a spoiled layabout in Greensboro, NC, surrounded by a jackpot of weirdoes, three of whom are now the editors who bring you Mayday Magazine. Upon arrival in Greensboro, I had made a handful of short films, the earliest dating back to an 8th grade short which re-enacted the Nat Turner Slave Rebellion […]
