An Archaeology of water-George Amabile

AN ARCHEOLOGY OF WATER for Tracy Jager   I tell myself, don’t make a sound. The river is asleep in its glistening skin of lights, and all the sails are furled.   This is the hour of translucence, a gift of shadows wrapped in veils of moonlight, veils of air,   like thin scarves whispering …

Getting Somewhere-George Amabile

If you live long enough, you might arrive at a place which has no name on Earth maps. And your arrival will be haunted by a familiar but unexpected sense of belonging, to the future, that wilderness of guesses (except, of course, for death though death has its own little clutch of maybes) and to …

Going South-George Amabile

GOING SOUTH for A and the others   We’ve come down here where the air is warm as blood – ten days in faux time, designed to heal a year of distress.   But when toothpick and paper umbrellas in billowy glasses fail to console, we resort to the sea, where we, and everyone else, …

Concrete-Peter Beda

  Bangzhu woke up slowly with a throbbing headache, a congested nose, and a dry throat. His first thought, dazed by medication, was: “I’m still sick to death.”   A few days earlier, he had caught the flu, weakened as he was by the ongoing fights with his wife. “My future ex-wife,” as he cynically …

City Scene-Peter Beda

I. Abstract shit convert legit inate legal action posing for a fraction get a piece of the action                               fragmentated day and night sirenes electric prostitution contemplated billboard games people play in the centre of things           …

Dying In A Dead Dog-Stuart James Forrest

A dead dog in the road; more precious than gold to a lonely black boy that was eight years old. Even more precious alive was my only friend; petted, cherished, hugged and hoarded, away from all of you. We would never die. We would never be killed, but he gamboled into a street of cracked, …

Tenderlion-Jessica Noyes McEntee

Jesus has given Mrs. O’Connor in Apartment 5C a fifth daughter, although he hasn’t yet given Mr. O’Connor the wherewithal to return home regularly, despite my feverish prayers. Mother sends me to knock on their door before I walk to Gristede’s for groceries. “Can I go on my roller skates?” I ask. Naturally, I’m rebuffed. …

When It Hurts-J. Ray Paradiso

So, I had a few pops after work an’ was feelin’ loosey-goosey. Waddlin’ on d’lift to my pond on 12 + 1 atop Chicago’s DaftView, I Hello’d a Monroe blond, wound tight, on her way UP. “Do ya smell bug spray?” I quacked. “I think it’s my perfume,” she nada’d; then, bolted like a shootin’ …

Evanescence- Mary Auston

Out there into the black hole, I’ve waited for millions of years into the constant maneuver. Gravitational singularity, what they call is pulling me with pleasant seduction rules to adhere.                                   Right there, right here, we built an endless …

Toucan are real- David Lohrey

That was it. I wasn’t able to be free, wasn’t prepared to carry the load, not entirely. I was too young. And nobody took up the slack. Absolutely not, so I drifted away. I paddled away, down to a less vibrant part of the river and dropped my line where there were no fish.   …