by Mary Wood THE CELESTIAL DREAMS OF BUCKIE AND DOT The day after Caroline found out that Miles died, she quit her job and moved to the desert. People always said don’t make any decisions right after a death,…
by Steve Wing MY GREEN JOB I stumbled into it. My sister’s friend had been dating this Environmental Engineer who needed somebody part-time, and I needed something part-time, so I said, What the hell? This was late in 1991,…
by Hannah Smart 4904 A Nonstatistical Analysis of the Futility of Statistical Analysis It’s 7:04 p.m. on Tuesday, May 30, and I’m about to enter Fenway Park for what will be my first ever major league baseball game, sponsored…
by Dylan Boyer Killing the Buddha and Eating Him “YOUR MIND IS A NIGHTMARE THAT HAS BEEN EATING YOU: NOW EAT YOUR MIND.” -Kathy Acker The summer was feral. Slusarz was in town, and we went with Matt…
by Beth Brown Preston A Dream Where the snow blinding, white lay cross the fields so thick and deepwe could step thigh high into a drift and the sharp red glintof a redbird’s wing flashed above our bowed heads.Or while…
by Matthew Friday Look Out At a look-out just west of the Mosier Tunnelsa herd of tourists admire the view, commentthat the island down there with the white jettyand a brick house would be a good place to stay.A $500…
by Carla Sarett The Heads of the Kings of Judah, 1793 All the priests were jailed or drowned.Twisted ropes bound and loweredthe twenty-eight Kings of Judahfrom Notre Dame’s portals.A giant blade. Bloodless. Clean.Louder than human bone.The limestone necks were cut.…
by Ashley Wagner Making Waves Confession: on days when I feelvery small, I’ve found a new lovein eavesdropping. On walks,I often listen inon the river’s conversationwith the rocks, the sandpipersshouting directions into the cloudlessair as they begin their trip to…
by Carol Berg Scoliosis Each day, my back reminds methat pain is an artist. Some mornings, my painis a contortionist performing in carnival, bright fire in its mouth, bendingin ways my body won’t. Some days, a boring lecturer,the dullest words…
by Gunilla Kester After the StormWe parachute into a new garden,borders erased, minutes changing size. Can a frozen Eden be well-watered?Pond’s ice-blind eye staring at a white sky. Strangers follow the red moon. Growand diminish. Nothing plain in the unknown.…