by Denise Duhamel | Dec 22, 2017
BEHOLDEN I remember running into a tenement building, up to the second floor, then looking out a hall window where my friends were doing the duck walk to prove they weren’t drunk. Jeff had thrown a book at a storefront window, setting off the alarm. We were...
by Brianna Noll | Dec 11, 2017
When the shadows look to you like sheets of tin and the light like sodium flame, you’ll know even God is an alchemist. One day, we’ll discover a planet where the rain is made of glass, and we’ll remember that everything shares constituent parts, materia...
by Kerry James Evans | Dec 1, 2017
In me a man busted to pieces sinks —like shrapnel—clear-through to bone. I pull out one piece at a time— occasionally I use tweezers, other times a backhoe, but each time it hurts worse than before, and It gets better is the world’s biggest lie. The...
by Willa Carroll | Nov 22, 2017
Mesothelioma Sounds like a species of coral, or a flute carved from animal bone. Not lesions on my father’s left lung, sheath of hard plaque tumors, flesh trophies from his labors. Fixed boiler pipes rife with asbestos, installed tiles of this fireproof...
by Sean Patrick Hill | Nov 8, 2017
The Thing Itself and Not The Myth Take anything that stands beyond your ghostlike apparatus, The crenellated brain, the grasping neurons. All we might understand of understanding. Imagine how small the space between nodes Where the leap of lightning...
by Ellen Doré Watson | Oct 31, 2017
We’re sitting idle, another day of no skin, no face up-turned. It’s not that rain streams us featureless, but there are bowls and there are bowls, and our faces yearn to hold light. Meanwhile the bright world, yellow and blue and crooked, puts on a show of...
