S. Brook Corfman O bright box, ripping, M. Moore wrote red flowers will not make red wine but I tried anyway, pressed them and ate them with eggs for breakfast. Counterintuitively, particularly bright colors often last longer than "regular" colors when left in the sun; it is not about intensity—there is less fading because the … Continue reading PROSOPOPOEIAN


Michael Torres Love needs a chaperone. Alone now, the pachuco’s grandson holds the CD, and waits for the sky to tell him what to do. God knows how to make a sign out of anything: a song played for the fifth time that day; petals you pluck from a flowerhead. Yesterday, his homie said, Diana … Continue reading THE PACHUCO’S GRANDSON CONSIDERS THE SILVERSUN PICKUPS’ ALBUM DIANA LENT HIM SEVEN YEARS AGO

In Adam’s Room (I)

Daniel Schonning If there is a thesis to the universe then tongues have no place in it. Angels, I know, don’t have them. They have mouths the way you or I navels: vestigial, defunct. Once pressed to the warm mouth of God. Without tongues, mana settles on the backs of their throats like fireplace smoke … Continue reading In Adam’s Room (I)


Donna Gary My mother always got jokes Only she know how they go When it’s a secret she grins so wide I can see my auntie gold tooth I can see two sisters in one mouth One sister raises me into a girl of crown grease thickness. Every morning her hands braid my hair into … Continue reading Mouth

♫♫depending on how you see/ a thing, the ship is free/ or it is sinking♫♫

shelley feller aye, ich icky thicc physic, suck-o i’m a snack, natch stabbed of thee, ye lech i dress’t, deliver’t the victual aclang, acock, atop, agog i got yr gog adance, adangle delectable undetected deee-lite belay that mister-man bad skin bad eyes gay & fatty fuddy rudder main-topgallant backstays all spanker gaff crossjack in the … Continue reading ♫♫depending on how you see/ a thing, the ship is free/ or it is sinking♫♫

Two Poems

Heather Christle DUCK Duck duck duck duck eventually I have to change. It doesn’t mean anything when it happens. It picks the same man again and again until the day the same man appears different. It is his shirt or the drift of his hairdo. His history’s eaten itself. Now it is my turn to … Continue reading Two Poems


Susannah Lodge-Rigal Again, the sun breaks itself on high branches on high branches the world-over The oak-full woods appear Without warning cowbirds prick the blue until they too are sewn to the smalling distant I slow around sad at my own surprise Pretend every gone thing singing still—pretend this is how I learn to be … Continue reading Midair

Noli Me Tangere

Shelley Wong the fields were scribbled on or as blank as envelopes * to write about birds & not think hunter not think bright cage for two * on the train, I slept in shuttering light through a bombed city returned to its Baroque splendor * a friend once said the body knows * I … Continue reading Noli Me Tangere

Jane in Starving Time

Alicia Wright Jamestown Settlement, Virginia, 1609 We grasp at everything but clasp nothing but wind. To have had my girlhood first at sea & here, in leafy canopy, silver cedars, oaks & wailing, owls & otherwise in timbered dark— I’m not like them, their island tongues unraveling in colony’s weak net, vowels slack-jawed with winter’s … Continue reading Jane in Starving Time