Fallout

John Middlebrook When I return to my place, nothing has moved beneath the layers of dust. Everything’s intact as if I had planned how it should be found. The series of decisions we made together now leaves us, one by one, to grasp that our chances are as random as the wind chimes’ unrehearsed jangling… More

Splitting Up

Jeff Knorr The vases and tables, glasses and silverware weren’t the hard things to give up. Just that they left holes like the dog uprooting the backyard geraniums. It was dividing the memories that cursed us. The dinners at the patio table, the porcelain bowl I bought her as a birthday gift in Washington D.C.,… More

Friction

Perry Janes Nikola Tesla. Smiljan, Serbia. 1875 Blue light chases the heads of wheat crops, leaps the divide from field to my hands on the windowsill. Mother outside, bathed in its watery glow, works to clear a path to the ocean, sends tall crops fleeing from her grasp. My father elsewhere blesses the sick and… More

Kmart Realism

A. Loudermilk I look at the sky and I say you can have it — Bet they don’t even bother to look down on us from their window seats: big rig jackknifed in Missouri, wife too busy to welcome me back to Kentucky, some old war by the Tennessee River. And mom-in-law disapproves. Weed may… More

Mute

A. Loudermilk Who do you think you are not answering the world? Onward tiptoeing soldier mouth poked full of cake? Maybe when you’ve always had your own room the fire escape collapses? So what’s to see from your window? Future disasters or just asters in the brook? House number or incest? Spur of murder? Unadjusted… More

Digital

Jeffrey Parker The numb narcotic of scrolling down the forever page, growing longer as the day dissolves its relevance into repetitions of images and words, floating over black electricity and disappearing as quickly from memory as from the last neurons – shifting between the hum of backlit screens and the faint subconscious, the dead white… More