by Amy Pence | Nov 19, 2020
It was good to fill the sinkhole myself after the landscaper botched the job. Beneath the plant he poised, thirsty on red clay—divots of emptiness. Ten bags of top soil go in smelling of the deciduous north, released from bags hugging dirt like a girdle. I want to...
by Elizabeth Marie Young | Nov 13, 2020
Becoming Human Is it the flaw no one had noticed in the inlaid featherwork from which we can infer Or is it nature who decides we’re so far fetched Which seems unlikely in a world of fangs and claws Is it a kind of miracle we’ve stolen from...
by Elizabeth Gross | Oct 23, 2020
[enter ham] in Australia a recent production of the Merchant of Venice changed the ending— what have I done? the Jew’s daughter wails, collapsing on the stage, dropping out of both marriage plot and conversion trance, delayed reaction to the previous scene, her...
by Joshua Aiken | Oct 19, 2020
by Twila Newey | Oct 15, 2020
by Rachel Abramowitz | Oct 9, 2020
The moon does notwant to be touched. How do I know? The goats this morning bludgeon each other and then roll in the daisies singing their childhood songs. The moon wants (it has said to me) only to go swimming, and here is a lake like an opal opened from its cave....
