READ IT ABOVE
READ IT ABOVE
BUY IT IN PRINT (coming soon)
with PROSE by
Bruce Harris | Italy: Now and Then // Rae Bryant | Bitter // C. Martinez | Monarch // C. Martinez | Ano A Luve Du // Jenny Rossi | Learning to Swim in New York // Ray Scanlon | Thanksgiving // Quinn Martin | teenagers // R. Matthew Burke | Childhood // R. Matthew Burke | Commute // R. Matthew Burke | Out of Touch // Carol Deminski | White Meat // Jonathan Byrd | Filming // Mike Shattuck | What the Floor Said // Craig Towsley | One Last Time // Sean Ulman | Pushkin (1) // Sean Ulman | Pushkin (2) // Sean Ulman | Pushkin (3) // Sean Ulman | Pushkin (4) // Bryce Livingston | Untitled
with WORD ART by
Eryk Wenziak | jpeg(((2_))(txt//;; - // Joseph A. W. Quintela | Sentence Program
David Tomaloff | Artist Statement (Footnotes to a Radio Enthusiast) // David Tomaloff | He Usually Came Late // David Tomaloff | Red &Rum // David Tomaloff | Without Gravity // David Tomaloff | Stepping Out of Days // David Tomaloff | Rain Song Dash Board, We // David Tomaloff | The I As an Opening to We, Scene II
with POEMS by
Nicolle Elizabeth | The Plate // Lois Elaine Heckman | Dear Body // Zack Lopiccolo | Skip // San Merideth | Edge // Teresa Nash | St. Paul // Eryk Wenziak | After “Chapter A” of Bok’s Eunoia (A Code Poem)
and a REVIEW by
Chris Vola | Roadside Savants by David E. Haase
in Buy Print Editions, Issue 100 (6 November 2011), Poems, Prose, Word Art, Writers from China, Writers from Colorado, Writers from Illinois, Writers from Italy, Writers from Maryland, Writers from Massachusetts, Writers from New Jersey, Writers from New Mexico, Writers from New York, Writers from Pennsylvania, Writers from Spain, Writers from Wales | Permalink
A pipe has burst at the herbarium. Jude pries the dead plants off their wet mounts and lays them on new sheets. He spreads the frills, bundles the roots, and sends them to the presses. Before closing time, he and Gemma have lazy sex in a storeroom in front of a jar of preserved bananas.
The technician stops here. A good climax makes for the best endings. He pulls the USB cable off and wheels Jude’s body out.
by Crystal Koo of Hong Kong
A brazen Christian defector eventually found God. His ideas justified killings, loathsome morality, nervous opposition. Preachers quietly responded, sounding the unholy verses with xenophobic young zealots.
by Taylor Saldarriaga of New York
Squishy fish. Hair clumps. A sudden eruption of bone extensions. Word droplets fizzle two lips, blistered tongue. New bone horizons burst the skin of thighs and waist. Possessed bits of glass litter the tiles, broken glitter in the sink. Slow fur from the distorted vortex is a cracked mirror. Dog teeth from raw gums. The tonal click of a grinding drill. Thick blackness, a sea of bile, the sullen void, identity.
by Jamie Grefe of Beijing
I finish walking the dogs at Jeff's, racing the cold front. Angina ebbs, sky blackens, a few dozen raindrops smack the windshield. A whiff of petrichor and Bach's Orchestral Suite #3 graces the radio: I'm content. Then all hell envelops me. Gravity temporarily trebles rending water out of air. A half-hour of biblically-proportioned rain and lightning, street gutters overflow, I can't see. Now it stops. Just stops.
by Ray Scanlon of Rehoboth
I peeled you off like leprosy! he grinned,
But now all you have are bones.
I laugh walking away, joints clacking, we never meet again.
I dash water from my eyes and come away with the flesh of a cheek sitting in my palm, a bright plum
by Jenny Rossi of Burlington
Maeve says, So you want to be a social worker. I nod, trying not to stare at the zit growing under her eye. She says, I have a social worker. She says, My dad threw my sister against a wall. She smooths her hair. I step backwards. Then forwards again.
by Jami Nakamura Lin of Chicago