Bruce Smith His charge was to make something out of the contracting cool that glows and then goes vagrant, whole systems of courtships and compensations that get lost in a letter appealing to the dust and the red blue extremities of stars. His charge was to make something out of the over under story or… More

Don’t Move

Bruce Smith You can have a thought or avoid a thought by having a feeling when it’s dawn [human inhuman light] or a gun is drawn [here, elsewhere] and you put up your hands and get down and get small; don’t ever take one in the back. Or there’s music the birds authored, elegy and… More

Two Rivers

Daniel DeVaughn He built a frame of air, in air, and left behind the chimney-smoke rising to the Southern Cross, prayer-like, the tide roar breaking down-coast. The gulls’ cries faded as he sank into sleep, and in dream, another night, the Cahaba rose, banners of weed braiding round his body as he drifted over shoals… More

Worrying the Bees

Jessa Heath A red welt blossoms as memory— only it’s not memory, not exactly. What I call memory is merely an image ringed with potential, unverified: a purple clover in a field of grass, bee-stung, or the possibility of pain. The mind learns to spread white lies, and tethers second-hand stories to the particulars of… More

West of Schenectady

Chen Chen The sun sets like a whispered regret behind the hills or is that a mountain. Moths come to the screen door as if that was what they were made for. Moth for screen door. & vice versa. I don’t have time for their secrets tonight. I am making my loneliness small. So small… More

Like Blood

Marc Petersen The real god doesn’t demand belief. He left us on dry land in a garden and asked us how we wanted to live. Once god was like a man. Now god is like an ocean. Calm from the shore– brown pelicans, sailboats large enough for meals at tables, a tanker transporting crude oil… More

Frozen Fawn

Robert Wrigley Funny, by which I mean mysterious or eerie, the way I just happened to look out the western window of my shack at exactly that moment the morning sun— via the same opening in the heavy brush I glanced through—made the carcass shine unmistakably in the shape of what it was. Still, I… More