John W. Evans Only a handful made it to the United States, some as far as Detroit. One killed a Sunday school teacher walking students through the Oregon woods. However many became rumor, stuck on power lines near missile silos, cut into tarps by farmers or chased across the desert with rifles and pickups, only… More

All Say

John W. Evans Every stick-figure boy stuck under pews smiles, from low angles, looking up. Kind of evil, eagerly lost or found, the struck boy slinks past the sacristy, under the glass, out of earshot of the choir. Wrapped in pale silk, shook foil flowers the cross, iridescent, lemon-oiled. The boy shrugs heaven and sky,… More

Listening to Li Po’s Garden

James Hughes Cadence in the sun And you and I the feel Of the green indifference, Afternoon set upon the lawn- A scene acceptant. We apart as two are one In every shape that moves Along the grass, not as Troubled bones in flesh announced; Our shadows lie behooved Among the garden blooms- Pasted by… More

Las Grietas, Galapagos

James Hughes The earth crusts with dry clay only inches from the shallow water line; as if the salt grains drink the moisture greedily and starve the cactus lives. We walk the lava stones and stumble on their fringes— loose, misshapen stairs adrift above brackish panes of sea in whose aqueous windows we gaze the… More