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Issue 19

Contributors’ Notes, No. 19

Contributors’ Notes, No. 19

Chyna Parker is a master’s student who admires the art of writing; she hopes to use her passion for poetry in her career as a Professional Licensed Clinical Counselor. Chyna is currently a reader for Gold Man Review where she is learning to define her skill in creative flash nonfiction. Chyna has been published by […]


Non Omnis Moriar

Non Omnis Moriar

by Chyna Parker A field of almond trees like dendrites reaching towards their cessation balancing in the wind between grave site grape vines and wood chips. Dwarfed lakes snake between hills and valleys to die, river beds bake and cook under the arid sun and the cattle with their dirt–brown tillage sold to the east […]


Consolation

Consolation

by Jack Freeman There is a spot that I am sure of, incredibly, in this world, where we will never arrive. -César Vallejo, “Trilce” That spot is here, in sight of the Spanish as they sought Osage gold. Without an astrolabe or sand glass, landed meridian was a dotted line which succumbed to river bends— […]


Ruminations on CK

Ruminations on CK

by Jack Freeman for Tyler I. I bought the book used from a shop downtown in February when we had class and read gibberish from some slim volume that told us how to be a poet. The book I bought was secret out of false necessity. Its lines grew mile-wide and played like a twelve-string […]


My Lineage Is Pure, As Delicate as Quebracho Wood

My Lineage Is Pure, As Delicate as Quebracho Wood

by Alejandra Castillo I come from a long line of cheap lipstick smeared over cantina walls. When the neighbors aren’t pointing and whispering “puta” they are whispering “bruja” or “bitch.” When the neighbors aren’t pointing and whispering “puta” surely my mother is. Binding my sexuality in unshaven legs, a unibrow, sweat suits, bowl haircuts. But […]


Jane Says

Jane Says

by Winsome Charter Jane says she’s leaving Sergio in Boston and starting a new life in Providence. Jane says Lacan is right: We’re doomed to the arc of romantic love–the intense role-playing at the outset, the wonder at discovering our soul mate, followed by bitter disappointment. Jane says she’s chronic. Jane says she loves the […]


Upon the Discovery of the Existence of Another Golden Calf

Upon the Discovery of the Existence of Another Golden Calf

by Holly Day This is how God must have felt looking down at His people dancing around the golden calf when they thought His back was turned, surreptitiously kissing fist-sized idols shoved deep in their pockets when they thought He wasn’t looking whispering heresy in one anothers ears lies about other true gods that were […]


Ghost Father Father

Ghost Father Father

by Holly Day Late at night, I swear I can still feel the impact of his papacy, looming in the corner of the house, an altar intact but bloody. Low, quiet, tongue lolling in displeasure, I met my end at the dinner table every night. Anger doled out with blessings over bread, as I wriggled […]


A Week’s Reading of the Newspaper

A Week’s Reading of the Newspaper

by Norman Dubie —April 30, 2016 Colonel Richthosen sucking sauce off ribs worries that the condor’s blue shadow is on his ceiling again, snippets of morphine broken on the floor with the dead carpenter’s bare light bulb showing images of luftwaffe plucking from the firestorm the very lungs of the children of Guernica— then, of […]


An I.R.S. Official from Houston Visits the Blood on a Stone Stylus:

An I.R.S. Official from Houston Visits the Blood on a Stone Stylus:

by Norman Dubie —for C. Marcus, I hope you like these two postcards: the three heaps of pastel sheep manure are not an azure I consider adequate to the browning of sunlight, but the green lawns are, and to be here at Palenque with mayan gardeners seated on their broad gasoline mowers is just such […]


NOT A SPAGHETTI MINIMALIST’S SACK / OF WRITS AND CHITS, NOT THE MOVIE WITH A DEAD BEARD IN IT…

NOT A SPAGHETTI MINIMALIST’S SACK / OF WRITS AND CHITS, NOT THE MOVIE WITH A DEAD BEARD IN IT…

by Norman Dubie His sister’s half-cousin with frothy breasts comes in from the tennis court and is thinking his last movie suffered an embargo of cops and uniformed what-nots, she thought to herself that the gratuitous blood just this once was enigmatic like the two drying ropes of chinese noodles that ran from the station […]


Eels in the Fridge

Eels in the Fridge

by Dorothy Chan When I ordered the eel donburi at dinner, I thought about my childhood night terrors of five-year-old me opening the fridge, finding eels where the eggs go, each little eel biting my fingers, as eggplants, cucumbers, udon noodles turn into eels, serpentine in motion, sexy the way a woman slithers in a […]


Sonnet XXI: A Boar Has Escaped the Hong Kong Zoo

Sonnet XXI: A Boar Has Escaped the Hong Kong Zoo

by Dorothy Chan It’s 8 PM, time for weird romances and suspense on Hong Kong primetime TV. We’ve finished our dinner cooked by Grandpa, and fixate on Concubine Conflict, a period drama: the emperor’s mistresses of an early Chinese dynasty. Some concubines get along, some don’t. The favorite, the top of the food chain hates […]


Swing

Swing

by Ed Harkness It’s that sensation of plunge and rise, of growing heavy and light and heavy and light, of forward-leaning and backward-leaning, legs tucked, legs thrust out, the one second of weightlessness, toes pointed at clouds, neck craned, head ground-ward back-tipped, hair swept to and fro, brushing the dust, the iron links cold and […]


Bat in Daylight

Bat in Daylight

by Ed Harkness So balletic are his leaps and swoops, his gray-brown 4-inch wings so agile he seems an angel, a scrap of crepe fallen from an aspen, slightly daft as if attached to clear fishing line tied to a girl’s finger. He traces filigrees above the pump house, near my heap of pine rounds, […]


Prologue to “A Sibling’s Story”

Prologue to “A Sibling’s Story”

by Valerie Jeremijenko Doha, Qatar, 2007 It was shortly after I began my first yoga studio when a junior teacher, an expat wife, who wanted a different shift, or something told me I was ‘not very yogic.’ I looked at her, surprised. I was balancing on a tightrope that could easily become a noose, selling […]


Keweenaw Fugue

Keweenaw Fugue

by Donna Vitucci At the top of the world, winter winds take down so many you find them bent along the highway, en route to Schutte’s Bar, flannel spanning their trunks but limbs crippled, stiff on the snow, shoved off and piled in culverts like slain lumberjacks. How he made it to town in the […]


The Undercard

The Undercard

by Clara de la Torre The Budweiser Girls were doubling as cocktail waitresses and ring card girls at Night of Champions, a popular black-tie fundraiser held in the second-floor banquet room of the Lubbock Country Club. Two of the Budweiser Girls had just entered the ladies’ room, an old-fashioned privy and boudoir combo reminiscent of […]


Abelista

Abelista

by Barbara Robidoux The bees love the smell of the old woman. When she stands next to their hive Abelista places the palms of her hands against the walls and feels its vibrations. They communicate through pulses. Workers have short and frequent pulses while the queen’s pulse is long and drawn out like a sigh. […]


Resolved

Resolved

by Richard Trauger The tormenting began in the spring. He would stand behind a wall or beneath a tree, always hidden, waiting for one of us to come close. Without warning he’d let loose a loud noise, or hurl a stone. As word spread about the problem a few came to see for themselves. Our […]


The Backpack

The Backpack

by Carol Severino “But we’re old enough to be your mothers,” I warned the two young Cuban guys flirting with us fifty-somethings at the hotel pool on a hill overlooking the sea east of Havana. At their request—they claimed to be broke like everyone else in Cuba (although somehow they had managed to scrape up […]


Boundaries — A Lyric Essay

Boundaries — A Lyric Essay

by Artemis Savory Idaho is borderless; there is no fee, no permit demand to enter Sawtooth Wilderness. Where the Salmon River snakes beside Route 75—deer sprint—across the highway. The town, in summer, is 100 people, a few restaurants, dirt roads, two bars for dancing. Open mike and failing darts at Kasino Club. Lawless Rod & […]


Bear Market

Bear Market

by Jared Smith The hunter sat by his fire and waited. The crackling pine made it hard to distinguish the noise made by the one watching him, but he knew it was out there. The smell of garbage and food waste broiled in the California sun gave it away, the stink almost strong enough to […]


Vivas to Those Who Have Failed

Vivas to Those Who Have Failed

by Martin Espada Reviewed by MIKE SONKSEN Martin Espada’s latest book celebrates his recently departed father and forgotten voices. Poet and professor Martin Espada’s latest book, Vivas to Those Who Have Failed, takes its title from a line in a Walt Whitman poem. Published by Norton, the 34 poems in this collection carry on the Whitmanian […]