Howie Good The crowded elevator disappeared between floors. Pedestrians stood weeping at the crosswalk. She still loves you, said the old man walking a dog on a rope. I smelled the salt of the nearby tears. It took two or three matches before the light would stay lit. Howie Good is the author of a… More

Under the Thick Light

Erika Ostergaard Watery air, lensed through autumn, looking for all the world like bottled decay. Your tallness slipped down my back and around the sides of my far ear, curling me round to your face, lit like oil squeezed from virgins and cherubs. Life under a bent glass, ozone’s microscope pinked with desire, rosy with… More

Blackjack Imaginings

Robert Wrigley In fact, it’s a beautiful thing: expertly made, the egg of lead in the business end and the flexible leather braid leading to a bulb for the hand and the loop for the jacker’s wrist, kinetic energy far superior to a fist’s. It’s perfect also for holding a book open to a certain… More


Robert Wrigley Next door the old pipe organ no longer wheezes. Here, the new one’s electric and hums. Here, too, upholstered pews, a last-twice-as-long-as-Jesus miracle fabric called Herculon over foam the bums of bums will appreciate. And me, sixteen, sneaking out, faking a coughing spell and bound for the old church next door, alone, but… More

Bare Tree

Robert Wrigley You, most admirable aspen tree: I admire the way a wound sine bull elk grinding his develveting horns on your trunk has healed to a pale gray that accentuates your beauty now, a decade later on. And as today’s autumn storm undresses you leaf by delicate gold leaf, I watch until you stand… More


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… More

Darning Needles

Ian Ganassi Whichever way you turn the signs are there. “Do tell.” From whence does the change come, Accumulating like snow in a blizzard? The dragonfly knits the landscape together In the bright beams after the rain. I believe we were never better off. It’s mighty hot down here. Crazy cold. The sign over the… More