Transfixed In Glory When The Night Flows Into Ant Intervals With Mango Instruments (Nomenclature of an unknown son resulting from the thoughts of you) And though I have grown as a human The mandrake falling on an old violin Says that the hole in the o-zone is moving Not only that but it's split... Show moreTransfixed In Glory When The Night Flows Into Ant Intervals With Mango Instruments (Nomenclature of an unknown son resulting from the thoughts of you) And though I have grown as a human The mandrake falling on an old violin Says that the hole in the o-zone is moving Not only that but it's split into two What are we supposed to do? To keep them from reaching the poles And melting holes in the ice And creating paradise Wiping out all the pain as our world goes down the drain It just makes me laugh at the struggle we mortals Put on our shoulders when we simply will die Our ideas like excrement that fertilizes plants that get eaten by animals Yet we must figure out this world that we live in And why are we here Even though it‘s quite clear But yet we merely go on our selfish ways Because of my pride I will not leave that behind I think that I‘m right even though I know that I‘m wrong so I write a bad song Won‘t you please sing along? “We gather in groups We reproduce We die“ There is suburban sprawl And an impermanent mall that shrieks if you touch it And I could care less about the pain that l cause so long as l have good credit 38 Show less
fl éiic a 7 mi 20d“ Naomi Sveom - Up Side Up ' ' John Mitchell - Privileged Moments - John Mitchell ~ Clippings ‘ Nick Heisick - Bukowski's Genius - Erik Helgeson It 's Okay to Eat Fish Because They Don 't Have Any Feelings - Cass Dalglish Red Conspiracy: A Young Women 's College Trip to Cuba -... Show morefl éiic a 7 mi 20d“ Naomi Sveom - Up Side Up ' ' John Mitchell - Privileged Moments - John Mitchell ~ Clippings ‘ Nick Heisick - Bukowski's Genius - Erik Helgeson It 's Okay to Eat Fish Because They Don 't Have Any Feelings - Cass Dalglish Red Conspiracy: A Young Women 's College Trip to Cuba - Brian Ashbaugh ~ Illegal in Most States - Samantha Mitchell - God's Eyes - Sara Beth Olson - Untitled- Amy Bethke - Cathryn and George - Jean M. Johnson 'Aishiteru (I Love You) - Jachin Rupe ~ Deep Sleeper ~ Cary Waterman - Burning Papers in the Park - J. Ball ' Votive- Siri Winick - Hard Times Bike Club - C, Wright Winger - Winter Prairie Crossing - Maura Nelson - I Want to Go to Africa - Cass Dalglish - Albert ’s Reign ~ Jonas Steinberg ‘ Burn - Siri Winick - Untitled - Joshua Wolf ~ Cucumber Magic ‘ D.E. Green - Cenote: A Poem in Two Parts ‘ Lindsey Meyer - Nana ‘ Lindsey Meyer ~ Guava Tree ‘ Peter - Untitled ‘ D.E. Green - Three Haiku: Impending Spring - Laura “Sims” Simones - River Study Series - Amy Bethke ' My Father ‘5 Art ‘ Jamie Ann Elizabeth Johnson - Long Walk to Understanding ‘ Kylie Grunzke - field - iii Contents NH—‘-— 9-) Show less
My Father’s Art Every Thanksgiving fatigued leaves would lie down to wait for winter‘s warm bed and my father would roll up his sleeves to make sage stuffing. Spices lined the counter devoted to their master. He needed no paper recipe or heartless plastic for measuring. This was his art — a pinch,... Show moreMy Father’s Art Every Thanksgiving fatigued leaves would lie down to wait for winter‘s warm bed and my father would roll up his sleeves to make sage stuffing. Spices lined the counter devoted to their master. He needed no paper recipe or heartless plastic for measuring. This was his art — a pinch, a mix, a prayer for perfection. A large stockpot sat on a chair, Between drags on his Lucky Strike, my father‘s arms disappeared into the pot, joining bread and rosemary and thyme and other things I want to remember. Sometimes I was invited to help and my small hands danced in the mixture — cool, forgiving. He would give a taste to my mother and she would always say, “More sage,“ until he got it right. 34 Show less
Sign She motions to her mother with petite black fingers. Simultaneously, ike the quick refreshment from a concentrated breath, a lack of sound :weeps over the street. The grey sidewalk muffles every sound around us— .ny footsteps soften and voices vanish, as if a breeze carries their echoes... Show moreSign She motions to her mother with petite black fingers. Simultaneously, ike the quick refreshment from a concentrated breath, a lack of sound :weeps over the street. The grey sidewalk muffles every sound around us— .ny footsteps soften and voices vanish, as if a breeze carries their echoes another direction. I’m catching up with the pair, since they move at a six-year-old’s pace. . slide to the mother’s left to pass and notice that no one is in front of them. {Slank sidewalk until the next street down, scattered with bits of litter and "emnants of puddles. The mother signs in return and the girl's pigtails shake as she raises her mile to the grey English sky. No huge busses barrel past, no black cabs .putter at the curb, no mobiles alert their owners. I cross in front of them and glance back as the girl lowers her shining 'ace and lets out an unbridled shout—unapologetic—pure joy in a sound ' he doesn’t know she is making. Her pigtails bounce while her eyes squint mcontrollably. Two more steps and I am in front of them. The sound of my boots etums, a dull click on the cement. An American voice shouts to his friend m a window. A pub door swings open and voices roll out with clouds of moke and laughter. [breathe again and continue on. Jeff Moores 45 Show less
Burning Papers in the Park l've cleaned out my files I‘m moving on shedding skins and papers and check registers my tax returns for the 905 directions for the electric waffle maker receipts for drugs I needed auto insurance stubs my assets my debits In the park the gnats are out and they are biting... Show moreBurning Papers in the Park l've cleaned out my files I‘m moving on shedding skins and papers and check registers my tax returns for the 905 directions for the electric waffle maker receipts for drugs I needed auto insurance stubs my assets my debits In the park the gnats are out and they are biting. The sky‘s a dreamy blue. Trees twirl in their fall dresses. And old Blue Heron flies over from lake to river. She doesn’t own much. Only her long legs stretched out like pencils writing the weather. the coming cold. Cary Waterman 16 Show less
he usually pushed his plate away afier a few bites. silently drinking his wine while she hurriedly finished. She remembered their first summer together afler the wedding, living in the tiny one-bedroom apartment. There was barely room for two chairs on their balcony; they would sit out there for... Show morehe usually pushed his plate away afier a few bites. silently drinking his wine while she hurriedly finished. She remembered their first summer together afler the wedding, living in the tiny one-bedroom apartment. There was barely room for two chairs on their balcony; they would sit out there for hours each evening. talking until they were sleepy. or the bugs found them and forced them inside. Then they would go to bed, sleeping huddled close. If he fell asleep first, she would listen to him breathe. letting the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest draw her into sleep. Now his trips had become longer and longer. They stretched from two days to three and then four. He didn‘t call her every night anymore, and she didn‘t ask why. When he was home, they played their scenes like professionals. She made their meals, they talked and had sex. She was lonely, but she didn‘t know how to get to him. She didn‘t have that key anymore. It pained her to try; the locks had been changed. but both of them pretended she still lived there. It was easy and safe. And now afler five years, it all came down to a plastic strip full of urine sitting on the bathroom counter. She left the room, paced the hall. looked at the phone. She would have to call him if he didn‘t call her. In the bathroom she picked up the strip. Pink stripes on the little window meant you were pregnant, and she was. She stared at the strip for a long time, as if waiting for it to speak. She threw it in the trash and went to the phone. She heard the fumace kick on as she dialed her mother, who answered on the second ring. “Hello?” “Hey Mom." “Hi honey. How are you?“ Her mother had that great way of making you feel interesting and invaluable and light as cotton candy. “l...l'm pregnant.” Outside, leaves were falling in a random haze of yellow and crimson. They blurred through her tears. “You‘re pregnant! That’s wonderful! Isn‘t that wonderful?“ “I guess so." Cathryn‘s body longed to lie down and give in. “What does George think, honey?“ “He doesn‘t know. He’s in Houston." She wiped her eyes with a Kleenex and sniffled. “Mom, could I. . .would you and Dad ever let me live with you for a while?" 10 Show less
Sign She motions to her mother with petite black fingers. Simultaneously, like the quick refreshment from a concentrated breath, a lack of sound sweeps over the street. The grey sidewalk muffles every sound around us— my footsteps sofien and voices vanish, as if a breeze carries their echoes another... Show moreSign She motions to her mother with petite black fingers. Simultaneously, like the quick refreshment from a concentrated breath, a lack of sound sweeps over the street. The grey sidewalk muffles every sound around us— my footsteps sofien and voices vanish, as if a breeze carries their echoes another direction. I’m catching up with the pair, since they move at a six-year-old‘s pace, I slide to the mother’s lefi to pass and notice that no one is in front of them. Blank sidewalk until the next street down, scattered with bits of litter and remnants of puddles. The mother signs in return and the girl‘s pigtails shake as she raises her smile to the grey English sky. No huge busses barrel past, no black cabs sputter at the curb, no mobiles alert their owners. I cross in front of them and glance back as the girl lowers her shining face and lets out an unbridled shout—unapologetic—pure joy in a sound she doesn’t know she is making. Her pigtails bounce while her eyes squint uncontrollably. Two more steps and I am in front of them. The sound of my boots returns, a dull click on the cement. An American voice shouts to his friend out a window. A pub door swings open and voices roll out with clouds of smoke and laughter. I breathe again and continue on. Jeff Moores 45 Show less
Cucumber Magic Peace-filled daydreams dramatized by humans discover That things are not the way they seem is to be a liar Tripping down to the floor I adore the footsteps from a beloved‘s breath Her breasts that give life by thoughts of delight lncriminated innuendoes my heartbeat crescendos to... Show moreCucumber Magic Peace-filled daydreams dramatized by humans discover That things are not the way they seem is to be a liar Tripping down to the floor I adore the footsteps from a beloved‘s breath Her breasts that give life by thoughts of delight lncriminated innuendoes my heartbeat crescendos to your room And thoughts of your womb became the crutch l thought I knew love Trembling back and forth in my mind I rub my stone Your box of kindness holds it in place Back inside I hide my face You want a love bolder than me but I need you to set me free Your womb became my cmtch Because on you I hold a Crush my heart in the palm of my hand I am glad it‘s made ofstone The right lobe is bigger than the left Peace-filled daydreams turn to nightmares do I think too far A headliner knows when to stop a show but that is why I never take the Stage I rage inside and hug outside and die a little from cucumber magic Why eat a vegetable ovum? lfonly I could eat a human'sjuices Lapping up I would sup on the nectar that you provide Until the clear graceful tide subsides I then would glide my oral oyster up and out past your navel and into your Mouth Making stops at your two erect spots Trembling florescence of empty bridges bite the brightness ofyour Headlights Vaginal disruptions my mind an eruption of corruption Disfigured dandelion wine And dine you till you have forgotten your thoughts of me as a nonsexual 26 Show less
God’s Eyes I knew a girl with a smile that could save the world, A small, upturned nose. perpetually red at the tip, And eyes sadder than God‘s staring at His creation. She deserted her family, Abandoned her best friend, Casting them off like yesterday‘s garbage. She clung to him, While he was... Show moreGod’s Eyes I knew a girl with a smile that could save the world, A small, upturned nose. perpetually red at the tip, And eyes sadder than God‘s staring at His creation. She deserted her family, Abandoned her best friend, Casting them off like yesterday‘s garbage. She clung to him, While he was there. A seventeen—year-old carbon copy, Ofthe father that left her, too. Her stomach swelled. She traded college applications, And family Christmases, For warm bottles. Welfare checks, Lipstick-stained collars. And when he left, The way her father had. She had the same things her mother was left with. Babies to raise, A family she turned her back on, And the ashes of a long dead friendship. I know a woman whose smiles are small, Hoarded like diamonds and harder than concrete. Her eyes are disillusioned, And cruel. Her nose, small, upturned, and perpetually red, Is the only sign ofthe girl she once was. 6 Show less