WONDER D.E. Green 122 On his deathbed, my father cried out for his mother. \Vrll they embrace again? Was that retum to the primal scene of low a foreshadowing of the beyond, a momentary revelation, the Ur-thread of our humanity, or just the firing of neurons across synaptic space? Once we’re gone,... Show moreWONDER D.E. Green 122 On his deathbed, my father cried out for his mother. \Vrll they embrace again? Was that retum to the primal scene of low a foreshadowing of the beyond, a momentary revelation, the Ur-thread of our humanity, or just the firing of neurons across synaptic space? Once we’re gone, will we know each other again in the smallnes of our need? A child returning to her mother. The gruff beard of my father against my nine-year-old cheek, cooled by the winter that entered with him. Show less
drink. When he drank he became impossible to deal with. I was seventeen when he refused to ac- cept that Kat, my second girlfriend, was anything other than my closest friend. The day he saw us on my bed he lost it. He walked into my room to collect my hamper, which I always forgot to bring down... Show moredrink. When he drank he became impossible to deal with. I was seventeen when he refused to ac- cept that Kat, my second girlfriend, was anything other than my closest friend. The day he saw us on my bed he lost it. He walked into my room to collect my hamper, which I always forgot to bring down on the weekends, and caught us making out instead ofstudying for our calculus exam. He pulled, the terrified, Kat offof me and told her to leave his house. That was the last time I saw her. My mother tried to defend me, tried to help by getting between us and talking sense into him. He grabbed her and when I went to help, he pushed me into the wall. All ofthe air left my lungs, and as I crumpled to the floor he pulled her out of my room and locked the door. I remember hearing her howls and cries and the crack of the belt from my helpless position. The day the courts legalized same-sex mar- riage was the day everything started to change. Eyen though I was single, my mother, brother, and I sat in the living room all day planning my imaginary wedding. When my dad got home from work the violence started again. He told me I was eighteen and he did not have to put up with my disobedience any longer. I went to my room and packed my bags like he’d told me to. My six-year— old brother went to pack a bag too, but that resulted in more beatings for him and my mother. As I rolled my carry-on down the driveway I vowed to come back for them as soon as I could afford an apartment. There are not many high-payingjobs for homeless people, but there are some. My six months on the streets as an escort made me tougher. I like the term escort better than any ofthe other alternatives for my occupation. It feels more profes- sional. My first night on the streets I met Max, my boss so to speak. I was walking to the alley by the theater because that’s where they threw out the old popcorn, and I knew I’d be safe. He was leaning against the theater almost hidden behind a swarm of well-dressed men and women trying to catch the attention ofpassers—by. “’earing a purple suit and top hat that concealed greasy hair almost to his shoulders he stood there waiting for someone like me to come along. “You look a little down on your luck, missy,” he said. “That’s because I am,” I made no eye contact. “I run a business and I think you’d be a real asset.” I stopped. “\Vhat kind ofbusiness?” “You could call it part ofthe service industry. My employees provide clients with their company." He made a little motion with his hips and smiled. “That’s not ajob. Cross.” I started walking again, but he followed. “You make the rules. Food and accommoda- tions are courtesy ofthe clients. It’s not always sex, you know.” “You’d never want a girl like me." “Well what exactly is wrong with you? Got some kind ofdisease or something? There‘s always something.” “No. It'sjust that I‘m only interested in wom- en." “Is that all?" He laughed so hard a man pass- ing on the sidewalk looked over. “You be surprised by the size ofthat market." “I don‘t want to do it forever. Just until I can afford an apartment for three people.” 103 Show less
FRESH WHITE NOISE Lindsey LaCasse A plethora of Praise Fresh Air in August. Morning News. White noise. Overcome by the Symptoms Personally responsible. Profound Explorations, Deepest Cultural Anxieties. Ideal setting for Controversy You choose your Commonality. A different idea The complications... Show moreFRESH WHITE NOISE Lindsey LaCasse A plethora of Praise Fresh Air in August. Morning News. White noise. Overcome by the Symptoms Personally responsible. Profound Explorations, Deepest Cultural Anxieties. Ideal setting for Controversy You choose your Commonality. A different idea The complications and the Contradictions The bad. The good, The end. 89 Show less
NEON SOUL Lindsey LaCasse I feel magical. Together we're Just sitting. Coffee reveals Influence and identity. Pamions unbound. Global myriad of ideas and Branching interpretations Encompas an array thfllSClVCS. “Neon soul”, Traditional and virtual. Returned alter a five year stint, likmvise, relaxed... Show moreNEON SOUL Lindsey LaCasse I feel magical. Together we're Just sitting. Coffee reveals Influence and identity. Pamions unbound. Global myriad of ideas and Branching interpretations Encompas an array thfllSClVCS. “Neon soul”, Traditional and virtual. Returned alter a five year stint, likmvise, relaxed. Still growing I Want more I didn’t want Rance me Not to be afraid. Cut teeth with Pedomtanee. Incorporated and opened Energy to explore. The pace and expanse, The city, Proved a positive forte, more Momentum. Experimental and risk-taking. Something that doesn’t fit, Mixing the pain. Now, Strange sounds, Spheres of mixing sourtes At the right place, 13 Show less
TO FLY WITH STARS Elisabeth Beam I stomped out of the house and walked briskly towards my bike lying abandoned in the middle of the yard. “Adam get the fuck back in Ilene!” I ignored the angry shout and hopped on my bike. “Fuckin faggot!” I began peddling furiously leaving behind my drunken step... Show moreTO FLY WITH STARS Elisabeth Beam I stomped out of the house and walked briskly towards my bike lying abandoned in the middle of the yard. “Adam get the fuck back in Ilene!” I ignored the angry shout and hopped on my bike. “Fuckin faggot!” I began peddling furiously leaving behind my drunken step-father and the hell he wrought on my life. I verged off the road and followed the beaten path into the forest. At this time of night it was devoid of all the high school kids getting drunk and high. I ducked as a branch loomed over my head. I hardly had to look at the path to know I was going the right way. My body went on autopilot leading me towards the creek as my head drifted up towards the clouds. I used to be happy. Nathan and I used to sneak out here when the world had gone to sleep and all there was were the stats and drizzling creek, We would strip down to our underwear and run into the water, laughing joyously, splashing all over the place. The creek was our safe haven; a place we could go to escape the hatred the world threw at us. I slowed down my pace as the fluid sounds of the creek drew near. The waterfall wasn’t far away; my body tensed. One night a few weeks ago Nathan had gotten the crazy idea in his mind that if we jumped off the waterfall we’d go up and fly with the stars. He had planted kisses up and down my neck, trying to convince me. Each kiss had been a flash of desire and longing. I had known Nathan since birth. Our parents had been best friends in high school, and exactly 9 months after their graduation Nathan and I entered the world kicking and screaming in unison. Our parents had planned to have us around the same time, hoping we’d be as close as they were. Obviously they hadn’t planned on us becoming so close. My bike skidded to a halt; the thunderous noise of the waterfall had been growing and growing until I stood right in front of the cascading falls. I sun’eyed them with a frown, the mist nose from the edge of the falls drifting upwards toward the stats lingering above me. It felt as if they were watching 29 Show less
THE WALL OF IMMUTABLE PLEASURES Erik Moore Martin‘s feet began to bother him as the evening went on, moving from an uncomfortable nuisance to a throbbing and finally to sharp bone pains. This wasn’t uncommon for Martin Especially with today’s occasion he had been on his feet since before first... Show moreTHE WALL OF IMMUTABLE PLEASURES Erik Moore Martin‘s feet began to bother him as the evening went on, moving from an uncomfortable nuisance to a throbbing and finally to sharp bone pains. This wasn’t uncommon for Martin Especially with today’s occasion he had been on his feet since before first light of day. Seeking Asylum from his aches, Martin found his way upstairs in typical covert fash- ion. Several guests will be on the balcony, Martin guessed as he passed by the hallway leading toward the double doors and large windows overlooking the rear of the estate. \Vhere can I find a place to rest? Not the drawing room, that would risk me being discovered in my desertion of duty. Ah, that’s it! The dressing room, nobody will be there until later this evening, Martin decided in his desperate retreat. Martin casually plucked a lit lamp of? one of the ta- bles in the long hallway to guide his way to comfort. The click of the door shutting behind him sounded the chance to find relief on the leather lounge of the dressing room. Martin kicked off his 62 stifT shoes as he leaned back and elevated his legs re- leasing a deep sigh as his tortured feet breathed the perfumed air. Martin looked at himself stretched out on the sofa in the dressing mirror acres from him, his neatly combed and greased back hair shown in the dim light. Martin, small in stature looked nearly childlike in the reflection. His size hadn’t bothered him growing up, his personality seemed to form around it. Most people neverjudged him as a threat which allowed him to take advantage of many situations in which he was given far too much trust. Tonight for instance, Luc had given him autonomy of duty, there was no one to answer to except for his masters and the few requests of the guests. Or when he was given charge of ordering wine for the cellar, there always happened to be a few extra bottles lying around, begging to be slipped into his quarters. Thinking of wine, Martin raised an eyebrow at him- self in the mirror. He spotted a decanter of red wine on a table over his shoulder. Why not? He thought, Show less
ALLEY CAT Ryan Nichols Angus cut a lean silhouette as he slunk down the alley in the pre-morning twilight. He deftly avoid- ed puddles from the previous night’s rain with a liquid grace all his own. The pads on his paws had reacquainted themselves with the cold concrete of city streets and... Show moreALLEY CAT Ryan Nichols Angus cut a lean silhouette as he slunk down the alley in the pre-morning twilight. He deftly avoid- ed puddles from the previous night’s rain with a liquid grace all his own. The pads on his paws had reacquainted themselves with the cold concrete of city streets and sidewalks over the recent months he had spent living on his own. As he turned a corner, he noticed a fat, brown Tabby stating down at him from a second story window in a small apartment complex. Angus recognized a tinge of jealousy in the Tabby‘s gaze; this was a house cat longing for the freedom and adventure that its 800 square foot, fully carpeted palace could never afford him. Angus also recognized a growingjealousy in himself. He stretched his claws down the bark of a nearby tree, letting them sink in as deeply as he wanted. He did this in full view of the Tabby in order to push away the suddenly active memories of his former life indoors by mocking the other cat‘s captivity. 'l‘hese days he slept in a makeshift structure he’d found on his first night back on the streets. It kept him from getting wet during rainy nights, but the alley itself had soaked into his fur from an early age and this new refuge didn’t offer much comfort. Even though he had spent recent year indoors, his earliest memories were of hunger and the parasites that plagued him as he clawed open trash bags and dead squirrels. The streets and alleys were his only lineage.There was a grime that came with such a rough life, a deep greasy dirt that would work its way into even the blackest spots on his fur. The grime had made his hairs stick together, replacing their softness with spikes of black and dull white. He didn’t groom himself back then. Better to save his energy for hunting and scrounging, or running. It had been like that for his first three years. But it had all changed when he found Allison. It was a hungry winter morning in the middle of the week and Angus had been forced by a scar- city of edible trash to expand his normal hunting 65 Show less
I REMEMBER THE TIME Lindsey LaCasse You bumed me In the back With your American Spirit. We took long drags And laughed into the quiet hum Of downtown St. Paul in the twilight houm Our legs were Swaying gently in the cool summer breeze As they hung from the twelfth story Pool balcony that night.... Show moreI REMEMBER THE TIME Lindsey LaCasse You bumed me In the back With your American Spirit. We took long drags And laughed into the quiet hum Of downtown St. Paul in the twilight houm Our legs were Swaying gently in the cool summer breeze As they hung from the twelfth story Pool balcony that night. My arms nested arms: that Dingy metal rail, My left thigh pmgcd to yours. Our naked bodies glowed pale blue In the starlight. Drinks and bathing suits lay poolside, Long forgotten. The city lights bumd. I Hear them as you leaned in to kixs me, Resting your hand on my back. 123 Show less
THE GOOD'OL'DAYS IN WAR Brendan Brophy The hardestjob is often juggling wolves Even when it’s as enchanting as one suitcase who doesn’t like going home for the holidays Keeping status-quo intentions by camping out on the fire escape & ordering take out through side windows Except scotch flavored... Show moreTHE GOOD'OL'DAYS IN WAR Brendan Brophy The hardestjob is often juggling wolves Even when it’s as enchanting as one suitcase who doesn’t like going home for the holidays Keeping status-quo intentions by camping out on the fire escape & ordering take out through side windows Except scotch flavored stains smell like broken down batteries choking on indigo bruises So forgive me For selling flashlights in order to keep watering arpeggios with incendiary limbs 97 Show less
six...I guess I don't really know you well enough to know." “Limbo for unbaptized pagans, the waste- land of lust, or the hellfire for heretics. I see you're studied up on Dante, but no, I belong here. This is just a coincidence,” he pointed at his tattoo. I could now make out a tall wooden cross... Show moresix...I guess I don't really know you well enough to know." “Limbo for unbaptized pagans, the waste- land of lust, or the hellfire for heretics. I see you're studied up on Dante, but no, I belong here. This is just a coincidence,” he pointed at his tattoo. I could now make out a tall wooden cross wrapped in a gay pride flag. I guess circle one was out of the question. “I was robbing a bank when I died. My third." he said. He turned his body to me and I saw the hole. What had once been a bullet wound was nowjust a bloodless tear. His skin fiapped around it like bed sheets in the draft ofthe cavern. “Ouch.” “Only for a second. Like getting a flu shot. In your entire body,” he laughed. “Your turn.” “It was like a dream," I said. I'd felt like I was floating higher and higher into the air and then it hit me like the headlight ofa train. The air became still and I was blinded by the white light. As I blinked it began to soften. thu! a prculiar drmm. In my twenty-five years as a therapist I thought I'd heard it all: nakedness, falling, inability to find the gas pedal on a car, eating ev- erything in sight, perpetual searching for a bath- room, and even impossibly long chases. This did not seem like any oftheir dreams. I tried to think about my stressors that could trigger such a fantasy, but could find none. I’lenty oftimes I had found myselfin lucid situations and this may simply have been the result of one too many glasses of scotch last night. Ahead of me in the clearing stood the home I'd lived in many years earlier with my ex-wife and children. My starter home. After the divorce we‘d sold the house to a bunch of frat boys who all but burned the structure to the ground. Still moving through the aura ofpure white light I could smell nothing but fresh cedar from the trees that outlined the yard as I approached the house. I ’1': an?! had a drcam what I could rmcll. I tentatively pushed open the door to reveal a dark house lined with large furniture and knick knacks, family portraits7 and pictures on every available surface. Stufl‘y. Beyond the trappings of a family home. I saw no sign of my ex-wife or chil- dren and decided to sit on the couch for a while. I always loved this couch. My wife had hated it when I put my feet on the coffee table. [mtg/11a: well cry'o} my dream. It’s (It: only vacation I (in gel. My daughter Molly hadn’t spoken to me since she turned l8 due to “irreconcilable differences." lfjou could call no! [nyingfltr col/cg! irreconcilable. She‘d attended Harvard Law School and was working on high profile cases — the kind that make the local news from time to time. This was a fact I loved to brag about to clients and strangers. Joseph, my son, had gone to a public university and become a specialized lacrosse goalie coach. From his Christmas letter, I learned thatJoseph was going to start working for a national team in the spring. Before I had the chance to fall completely asleep on the couch, I heard a man‘s voice:“Your mother would kill you ifshe saw feet on the table!“ “Dad?” “You got that right," the voice boomed. It appeared to be coming from upstairs. “\Vell if Mom’s here, tell her to come say hel- lo.” Dreams are better when you play along. My nightmares were not as frequent as those of my patients. I had experienced no real trauma and never had any recurring anything, but on occasion I found myselfdreaming about my parents. espe- 147 Show less
A PANTOUM FOR MY DECEASED LOVE Brendan Brophy Did the ever stay out to gaze at us When we chased yellow fireflim through the night Do you think we made themjcalous Cosmic voyeurism of the grass between our toes When we chased yellow fireflies through the night Upon the field, past the dirt road Cosmic... Show moreA PANTOUM FOR MY DECEASED LOVE Brendan Brophy Did the ever stay out to gaze at us When we chased yellow fireflim through the night Do you think we made themjcalous Cosmic voyeurism of the grass between our toes When we chased yellow fireflies through the night Upon the field, past the dirt road Cosmic voyeurism of the gram between our toes Across the docks, the lake mirroring the sky Upon the field, past the dirt road The Wind's breath leaving our bodies weightless Across the (locks, the lake mirroring the lf 1 was dn-zuning, thank )ou for not waking me The Wind‘s breath leaving our bodies weightlms My hand in yong and your hand in mine If I was dreaming, thank you for not waking me You breathed me in, as I breathed you out My hand in yours, and your hand in mine Do you think we made them jealous You breathed me in, as l breathed you out Did the stars ever stay out to gaze at us 31 Show less
FREEDOM Aaron Boger John Hardwick woke up on his bedroll that day to heavy, drenching heat. JUSII/J Hardwitk awoke on his bedrall to find that a terrible drenehing heat had laid anon hir (amp, leaving his cotton underrlothex wet and clinging to his body. He xtood up and held out his arm; in an... Show moreFREEDOM Aaron Boger John Hardwick woke up on his bedroll that day to heavy, drenching heat. JUSII/J Hardwitk awoke on his bedrall to find that a terrible drenehing heat had laid anon hir (amp, leaving his cotton underrlothex wet and clinging to his body. He xtood up and held out his arm; in an attempt to dry himxem but there war no breeze, and he soon gave it up a: a bad job. John sighed as he realized that he wasn’t going to be able dry himselfin this dead, still air. He sat back down on the bedroll and rubbed his eyes. His hair was lank and greasy, and running a hand through it only slightly improved the messed look ofthe brown curls he had inherited from his father. His mother’s blue eyes stared at the dead fire smok- ing next to him. diary! hours (yjessup’x thildhood had been xpent staring at fire; just like thir one, a; he camped out in the woodx behind his home in Northern Virginia. The fire would captivate him late into the night, or all else fell to darkner around him, and he would look to his side, 76 and there would be his brother, John, Jessup, smiling big, a few more grown-up teeth in his mouth thanJohn had himself, but the same father's hair and mother’s eyes. He was the only thing in the pitch-black that was still glowing bright with the life of the fire they sat beside. They would take out the pipes they had made in secret from hollowed out and hardened cobs ofcorn, and drilled out pieces ofwhittled wood. Th9 would pinth Iobaao from the little hag they had .rtolen from their father. They would lamp it, as best as they could, the way they had seen father do, as he looked out across the plantation in the twilight. Wu} would light them and pafl in until hing of rmo/re tame out. They would breathe the smoke in too far and choke and cough. And the rob: would heat up and ruin the tabarro, hum- : It Show less
