Haloing the Lion

Carl Phillips’ poem “Haloing the Lion” appears in the Winter 2015 edition of “Fogged Clarity”. More

There was a drum set on the road. In pieces.

Daniel Anderson Actually, it was an interstate. A drum set? Yes, already. A drum set. And as we passed, (who was driving, anyway?) there on the shoulder of the interstate I saw the bass drum and thought, That looks like a drum to me. But we were moving too quickly to be certain. Wait. Who… More

Meat

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

Smoldering Arizona

Keith S. Wilson her wasting away like sugar-water in the smile of my arms. make-believe carillons of nectarines and pears, strike like fireflies finding mecca. i wear her like a net of fog. arizona, we are gaping through your ribcage at the stars—at our backs the crinkling giraffe of a flaming trailer—and we sigh into… More