Ben Evans sits down for a conversation with one of the greatest novelists of our time.

Portland-based songwriter and founder of Raven Marching Band Records Laura Veirs' exclusive acoustic session for Fogged Clarity.

Peter Schacht - Paintings on found wood

This month in The Eye: Tor Dahlin's beautiful black and white series, Lucid.

September, our 21st issue, features: Howie Good reading and discussing his poems A stream of Grass Widow’s dynamic new album, Past Time The startling photography of Horacio Salinas: 10 x 10 Portraits and Carnivore New poems from Scott Hightower Original fiction from Simone Martel and Michelle Bailat-Jones …and much more. Benjamin Evans Executive Editor, Fogged Clarity September 2010 Table of Contents Fiction Michelle...

The beautiful steel sculpture of Al Farrow

Townsend Walker My parents must have evolved from frogs. Frogs seldom form families or care for their offspring; they just mate and jump. It took me twenty-three years to have a family; my brother Jack never did; and my sisters married Jesus. I was born in the middle of a snowstorm in New York City, January 1913. My father left us in 1914. Didn’t come home one day. Deserted my mother, Jack, Elizabeth, Arleene, the baby, and me. My...

Alexander V. Bach The rules they had talked about for a while included that he be in the same room, that they both make the choice and that they would have no contact again with the man selected, which helped with the last rule–no names; he didn’t want any way for them to know each other, and he didn’t want any names said during the act. There were also stipulations they went over about the act itself, more appeasements and...

Allan Johnston All is work and peck, work and peck; for these sparrows, the world is a feast, then suddenly, unexplainable flights sired by slight movements; they are enactments of neurosis, trauma yet living it they are cured in the feast of the world. Allan Johnston is the editor of the Journal for the Philosophical Study of Education. His poems have appeared in over sixty journals, including Poetry, Poetry East, Rattle, and Rhino....

Allan Johnston Locked solid, this road, with bright links of steel: a spell; to the south, flames dance on a side hill. Grass takes wife with fire, leaps like thought — a gas spill. A light wind weeps, and smoke clouds brown in billows above. The darkness before dreams descend shoves in. Alarms prize the air. On the road, trucks shimmer like stalled salmon. They are slowing; they hamper the highway ride – the thoughtless, wordless...