Issue Twelve

Tornado Dreams

I’ve never been in a tornado. But the landscapes of my childhood dreams were ravaged by them. Brought on by the trauma in my waking hours, my tornado dreams were prolific, and proved to be, prophetic. The first, an EF-1, to spin its massive cone into my dreams, did so...

The Truth or Something Like It

I met Joe Nuxhall a few weeks after my fifteenth birthday. His hands were gnarled, and he spoke as though his mouth was half full of marbles, but he was sharp and funny as hell. I was only a few months younger than he was when he made his Major League debut....

Misguided Prophets

The Sibyl Was Too Old To Go To A Beauty Counter  There was a home for the prophets that couldn't remember their names anymore. This could only push the mimics into cages to see if they could swirl the leaves with their tongues and make God-given mistakes. There...

A Cacaphony of Lovers

My first was a lover of balloons – fast up, deflating slowly, achingly. Next, a magician, always kept something up his sleeve to tantalise and tease. Until, one day, the rabbit he pulled out was dead. I indulged other tastes with Clarice, a fire-breather and spinner –...

three sections from Ornithoncology

from Ornithoncology I ain’t no holla back girl, but girl, I love the hollow of your back, a birthmark continent and placid sea.  I mean, this shit is bananas.  I mean, I once won a spelling bee.  But I like best when you sting my mouth with kisses, and I want to holla...

Overlooking Everything

What do you want to be when you grow up? I ask my son Leroy. An architect! The 6-year-old proclaims. Well, why wait. We start building the world’s tallest rollercoaster right here in our suburban backyard. We lay a concrete slab and bolt down some 6 x 6s. Seeing a...

Specialist

Car One evening my car burps and dies. I point to the place where the car has always felt sick. Dog "Most of our things are already ruined," my man says, pointing to the chewed chair legs, scratched hardwood floors. Lately his voice sounds like a permanent sticker. No...

Dim Songs for the Sightless

I set a pot of mac and cheese on the hotplate to simmer before grabbing my line and hook. It’s that time of year again and you never reject a source of free food. I push down to the basement, over to the back corner near the water heater, and probe around. I need to...

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