They were selling phoenixes

Chen Chen in the form of untransformed ash. In the middle of a Costco in Connecticut, I said Gimme. You said, Let’s do the most New England thing we can think of. Let’s go sailing in khaki shorts. I’ll bring the chowder, you bring our phoenix. Our phoenix would increase productivity by fashioning a new… More

Elegy

Chen Chen My shoes were growing more powerful with each day. I walked in the country of letters, its fields of eyes belonging to my lost sister— dark eyes that early closed, or forgot to open. I have not been back in some time, though often I walk to my office, daydreaming of that country’s… 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

Maybugs

Perry Janes It’s as if everything is built to pull us forward towards an age we won’t remember the seasons. The geometry of late spring drones in my ears: honeycomb octagons, grass lines all pointed upwards. The water wheel I built cycles, unmoving, while I shoot blindly into the field with my cornstalk popgun to… 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