What You Remember

Marc Petersen Today, you don’t make it past Livermore. With a hundred miles to go, you pull off the freeway. You park. You get out. You watch traffic pass at eighty, heading northeast. You wanted to see where she’d lived. You imagine roads and barbed wire fences. It was a long walk. This is what… More

The Dark Crowd

Brendan Constantine There are people our eyes can’t ride. My grandmother had an expression for it in Greek: Our eyes fall off them. Who don’t you see? What do they make plain instead? Have you thanked them? It’s probably relative. That is, not a question of beauty or character but rather, where you’re standing &… More

The Ultra Sound

Brendan Constantine I put my hand on her stomach and feel for the baby’s head. Earthquake season. After a beat, it finds my palm, nuzzles. I sense other movements, a fumbling in the dark of this woman. The couple downstairs are blind and clumsy. Their daughter is ashamed of her sight and pretends to stumble… More

Rising Sonnet for Miles

Stephen Cramer St. Louis, ’44: Miles was 18, fresh out of high school, & seeing Bird & Diz on one stage was a daydream to rival his most carnal. When he heard those escalating exchanges, the opposite of gravity, it was like the first time he rode an elevator: when Diz hit floor three, Miles’… More

Poe in Love

Howie Good 1 A man jammed fistfuls of earth into his mouth. And why not when nations sell weapons to their enemies? The weather arrived late, a funeral with only four mourners. All his life he liked to wander through cemeteries. If everyone is doing it, someone said, it must be OK. 2 Probably the… More

Tempus Fugit: Couplets for Stan Getz

Stephen Cramer The 16 inch slash from his left nipple around to his backbone wouldn’t cripple his style, but having his chest muscles cut, his ribs pried apart so surgeons could root through artery & bone: that might. Still, they collapsed his lung, steered toward the fist-sized tumor trapped between his heart & spine… Dis… More

To Raimund Hoghe

Allyson Paty By what grace can two men stand in equal stillness while each minute settles like exhaust when it rises and drifts to the edge of the city. There is the man who musters his snake limbs. There are the stones that he shakes against his chest. Then you, Raimund. On what nerve do… More

Bed the Monster

Rachael Lyon Sometimes I wonder whether I was robbed of some rich diction, having grown up in a landlocked place. The smells of sea don’t make me sick for home, nor do the names of fish or coastal birds. Or this: a sound. That means one thing to me. But it haunts you, this land… More

Firefly

Sally J. Johnson You are the first person to see the beauty in a firefly without jarring it to watch it die. I buried calico quilts in the ground, for weeks and months after you died so you’d have something warm and home to sleep in. Can I still tell you the things I am… More

At a Co-op in Austin

Jameson Fitzpatrick All week I’ve been drinking in the morning instead of reading the news. Now a pretty shorthaired girl says we’ll be bombing Libya by tomorrow— but tonight there’s a rumor of fireworks, and a burly blond’s chosen my waist to wrap a bulging arm around. He’s a tank of a man, with thick,… More