Issue Fifteen

Cannibals

Every hour we shed 30,000 skin cells. Some we’ll swallow back down, like an auto-cannibalism. Some won’t be ours, but they’ll settle in and stay. It’ll look like a place called home among the bronchi and the bronchioles, the ligaments and the tendons, the red and the...

Albatross Soufle; Bird Home

Albatross Soufflé There’s no secret to how the world is made: it isn’t. It grows from the leavings of holy box turtles, flightless origamis, snufflings lost behind elder doors. Tears and Tvarscki, Chopin and Coffins. My daughter’s goodbyes that settle into my heart...

Chestnut Street

Only a few people and maybe two stray cats remember when this house was purple, not tan. Every autumn except the last, a white Maltese often frolicked through the yellow ginkgo fans confettied on the sidewalk like he was too late for a parade. A pair of wood-planked...

Want

The wind descended from the west            To rattle the orchard trees. Dogtags nailed to apples and plums            Rang out like wine flutes struck At the marriage table. The star-white blossoms            Let go their limbs and laid themselvesAs if for a funeral...

(too often a sentence)

                                                          , too often a sentence forgets its beginning, wandering to and fro toward an ill-formulated end only to be abandoned in a momentary distraction; an insect in the throes of death trapped at the edge of a...

Casino People

The Angle of the Winds and another killer appear on a highway going nowhere. And there, a fallen farmhouse as though the sky pushed down from above and the ground from below, timbers slowly snapping, swallows like souls bursting through the doors… I know these people,...

Infinite Waiting

I know dreaming of touching you now is like choosing to watch the story of the earth ending or the one where the sun’s core fuses too much helium and soon after collapses. Still, I remember what it was to wait for you. You had a job washing the bodies of the deranged,...

Signal Road

Here in the future a satellite floating silently in space is beaming music directly into my moving car. No matter where I am I'm one of the chosen, sanctified by signal shot straight from the heavens. Even late at night out on a lone strip of old cracked two-lane...

In the Process of Forgiving My Mother

“There was a taut blue quality in the January light, a hardness and confidence.” - White Noise, DeLillo I had just stepped out of the house and into the front yard after having had my mother throw vino at my feet, the jar shattering with a pop much like the requiem of...

Mugshot

That mug shot from DVI, the penitentiary the gladiator school for hardened young cons—just one eerie frame your hard-as-steel face eyes glaring no flinch no emotion just those angry eyes staring back at me like dull black stones—that mug shot from the place where you...

Pin It on Pinterest