Howie Good The Desert of the Real They say the truth is self-evident, but passers-by regularly avert their gaze, and I myself have only ever seen what I have wanted to see, never once suspecting that all the time I thought I was moving toward something I was moving even farther away, a silver airship […]
Read MoreNatalie Wolf
Diana Morley “Just Asking”
Diana Morley Just Asking Heard someone say every tree in town should come down as they block views and are a fire hazard, so I wondered what views are more worthy, and don’t houses burn too—and if all the trees were gone, where would we put all the birds coming to sing as they do […]
Read MoreDiana Morley “My Dance Partner”
Diana Morley My Dance Partner stepped on my toes now and then as I stepped on his—but he had my back with a warm hand and swept me into an intimacy far from our bedroom, a union so satisfying I could have danced all night. Diana Morley managed herself in a marriage for over five […]
Read MoreJ.R. Solonche “The Stone Wall”
J.R. Solonche The Stone Wall The stone wall I built years ago has disappeared beneath the tall green laugh of the weedy grass. Nominated for the National Book Award and twice-nominated for the Pulitzer Prize, J.R. Solonche is the author of 26 books of poetry and coauthor of another.
Read MoreErica T. Holt “Perennial”
Erica T. Holt Perennial One day, the gray matter where your smile is stored will decay into the earth and nourish spring’s wild crocuses. Erica T. Holt likes gossip and ice cream almost as much as snails.
Read MoreIan Willey “The Substitute”
Ian Willey The Substitute A boy raises his hand and asks the teacher how much longer he’ll have to hate himself, and the teacher, unsure how to respond, reaches for the manual only to discover that the manual is missing, having been replaced by an old TV Guide, and so he stands there, discombobulated, green […]
Read MoreMike Dillon “Song”
Mike Dillon Song He always stayed on the far side of the hill until he came to the door one day and, not bothering to knock, placed on the dining room table a small wooden box with the red stone of your secret wrapped in cotton inside, and your heart turned rabbit, not knowing which […]
Read MoreJon Densford “Supply Chain Blues”
Jon Densford Supply Chain Blues I imagine my muse is stuck somewhere on a ship anchored off the Port of Long Beach inside a rusty freight container where she is spraying graffiti on the inside walls and waiting, waiting for some teenager to learn to drive a semi. Jon Densford lives in Memphis, Tennessee where […]
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