dead hawks

dead hawks* by Andrew Zuliani *Embarrassing early poem, scrambled beyond recognition. About the author... Andrew Zuliani is a writer and musician who lives between Vancouver and New York. He is working on a doctoral dissertation on flatness and depthlessness in postwar literature in the department [...]

dead hawks2019-01-14T06:13:06+00:00

The Role of Light in Creating Space

The Role of Light in Creating Space by Tor Strand We come from Birdridge, running Earth’s sharp edges, jamming our toes, obeying an unmapped wanting. The bore tide fills Turn-Again with a wave of outer ocean, a long white cap from up here. We surf with our eyes. Far above the snow on [...]

The Role of Light in Creating Space2019-01-14T06:02:27+00:00

The Blueprint of the Land

The Blueprint of the Land by Édgar J. Ulloa Luján There is no river but only sand sand and no river in the borderlands There is no river but only sand sand and no river it’s a fantasyland There is no river but only sand sand and no river in my motherland [...]

The Blueprint of the Land2019-01-14T05:25:05+00:00

Where Does Sound Travel?

Where Does Sound Travel? for David Zeledón by Margaret Fleming In Texas, I stand by a baby monitor, audio waves and linens move in unison. I watch her chest until I am convinced she is no longer breathing, her sighs quiet. I run upstairs to catch the wind in her body. If this [...]

Where Does Sound Travel?2019-01-14T05:03:52+00:00

WAIT

WAIT …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   … …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   … …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   … …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   … …   …   …   …  [...]

WAIT2019-01-14T04:17:43+00:00

The Last Cicadas

The Last Cicadas by Genevieve Betts The last cicadas thump and buzz like a souped-up Cadillac. They really are the most beautiful plague. I too hum among their windowpane wings, veined like lace on whirring blades. Sugar skulls commence their séance, flicker pigments in candied ambiance. The desert’s hot verve vacillates at the [...]

The Last Cicadas2019-01-14T04:01:04+00:00

Poloñius

Poloñius by Cameron Espinoza Elsewhere my words are sounds Sharp unsubtle manifestations of wind My shaking hands orchestrate obtuse keys— dictating tune Overwhelming My wit My lips My cadence The dulled wife’s lament “it” sits Cross-dressed down Puzzled formulaic void epiclets of sepulchral sound The traveler’s age-old apartheid Administered by Moses and British [...]

Poloñius2019-01-14T03:49:35+00:00

PARANOIA

PARANOIA by Lukpata Lomba Joseph What smidgen of thought Propagates in this wide helix, Whirling and birthing spiral envelopes With all reason in its service? What infinitesimal impression, Sits with honour at the pivot Of this growing gyre? Last night's dream led the way, Where your bones were crushed in a wrecking Sienna; [...]

PARANOIA2019-01-14T03:39:16+00:00

Halloween Night

Halloween Night by Jennifer Luckenbill The Oklahoma wind whistles its quiet tune outside the window, smooth as butter on freshly browned toast. Music to drown the thumps and bumps of a late Halloween night. Whispered melodies too soft for the ear, breaking the wall between body and spirit, between living and dead. No [...]

Halloween Night2019-01-14T03:25:52+00:00

Erdélyi Táncok

Erdélyi Táncok by Matthew Dischner My cats prick up at the sound of Bartók, their tails arrhythmically conducting an uneven harmonic minor as they yowl with the violins, circling for supremacy over a discarded hair tie. About the author... A disciple of the experimental humanities and [...]

Erdélyi Táncok2019-01-14T03:16:12+00:00